The Melody of Two Hearts
by StarlightWeavers
Summary: Tezuka lived a life that others envied him for, but that was because they didn't know how incomplete he was. And he would never be complete, because the only person who could fill the gap in his life was the person he, himself, had broken many years ago.
1. Prologue

Lia: A little background of this story: Clary had been writing a completely separate fiction that I have been yelling at her for, because, like the lazy smartypants that she was, she did not give me anything about where the story is going, and that usually means that said story is going to end up unfinished. I was working on fixing that when she got sucked into an argument about cliches and ingeniously (do note the sarcasm) worked herself into a bet of sorts. So now, she is furiously writing this story because 'her pride and dignity as an author is on the line.' (No, I don't understand it, either.)

Also, I think it's only fair to warn you that she is trying out a different writing style. It is disturbing (but that is probably just me)

But please do enjoy :)

* * *

His relationship with Tezuka was not all honey and sunshine.

There were times when they argued, times when either he or Tezuka was too stubborn to give up an argument that would have been otherwise meaningless. He guessed that came from the fact that they were both strong-willed boys. But still, he was okay with it. They fought, but they made up afterwards, every time.

And then there were times when he would be waiting for nothing, when some promises were broken, when some jealousy sparked, but he learned not to mind.

(There were also times when he longed for an 'I love you' that would always remain unsaid, but he stopped minding that, too.)

Because he _knew_ that they loved each other. And somewhere along the way, he had convinced himself that that was enough.

No, his relationship with Tezuka was not all honey and sunshine at all.

After all, they were both boys. And they both knew that society would look down on them if they did show it. Their relationship was kept at the utmost secret, even though he would have wanted nothing more than to tell the world that he belonged to Tezuka, and that Tezuka was his. He hated that he couldn't reject confessions by saying that he was with someone else, because there would be too many questions that he cannot answer. He hated that he couldn't hold Tezuka's hand in public, that he couldn't go on normal dates with Tezuka, that Tezuka couldn't kiss him on his doorstep when he was dropped at his house.

He hated it, but he had to stand it, because he was protecting Tezuka too. Because Tezuka had a reputation to uphold, because Tezuka was the perfect student and the perfect son, because he couldn't ruin and hurt Tezuka like that because of his selfishness. Besides, the times they both _did_ spend together were exquisite and over time, he had taught himself to be happy with it.

It wasn't all honey and sunshine, but the times that it _was_ were the best times in Fuji's life.

Even until now.

He had known, from the very beginning, that it would never last, that they would never last, that his forever with Tezuka was not possible. He had known that dreaming about things like that was only going to hurt him in the end.

But even then, he couldn't stop. He couldn't stop loving Tezuka, couldn't stop longing for him, and wanting him, and couldn't say no to every touch, every kiss, every moment that they shared together.

He told himself that it was okay. It was okay that he was happy now. He could be sad later, but he was happy _now_, and it was what mattered. He'd keep all these moments in gold-framed memories for later on, and he told himself that they will be the ones that will carry him through life, without Tezuka.

He told himself they were more than enough, and he worked so very hard to get himself to believe it.

It was, after all, the first lie he'd told himself when he came into the relationship.

Though he took comfort in the fact that at least, it wasn't the biggest lie he'd ever made himself believe. He had been young then, after all, and much too naive and drowned to his head with love.

He had always wondered why he was called a genius. He was nothing more than a lovesick, sorry, sad excuse for a fool who believed all sorts of things just because he wanted to believe in them.

He wanted to believe that he could live without Tezuka, for example.

And it was nothing but a stupid lie.

But not the biggest, and the most painful one, no.

Because Tezuka's love had been the biggest lie of them all.

* * *

**THE MELODY OF TWO HEARTS**

**Prologue**

_**You are the song playing so softly in my heart**_

* * *

The setting was perfect.

Fuji Syusuke had painstakingly prepared it himself, and had taken great effort to make sure everything was just right, that everything was perfect _for her_.

He smiled as she sailed through her room to him, her eyes sparkling with obvious delight. They were blue, like his own, but not. They were the color of cornflowers, if he thought about it, and once she had laughed and told him that here, in America, cornflower blue eyes weren't as alien as they were back in Japan (and, in the same breath, added that _his_ eyes were exotic _anywhere_). Her golden hair was in a bun that looked beautiful, if not new, on her, for most of the time, they were down, in neat (but uncombed) waves.

He chuckled. "Happy birthday, Milly," he told her, reaching around and hugging her back, though with decidedly much less enthusiasm. Sometimes, she reminded him of a certain red-haired acrobat back at home, that was almost as enthusiastic as her when it came to glomping, but he stopped himself from remembering anything more.

He would only hurt himself.

Milly Ashford grinned back at him, straightening her black dress that went a little more revealing than most, but not so much that it was slutty. He had spent so much time with her (ever since he started high school in America, actually) that he didn't mind her dress choice anymore.

"Thanks, love," she said, winking at him before giving him an overly-exaggerated kiss on the cheek.

"Now, now, President," he playfully chided. "There's really no need to keep everyone waiting for long now, is there?"

"Oh, don't worry," she replied, falling in to the playful banter they had developed over the years. "Call it being fashionably late."

"They can't properly celebrate a birthday without the birthday girl, can they?" He loped his arm with hers and began leading her towards the gilded elevators of the hotel.

"I'll tell them I spent the time celebrating with my beloved." She winked at him again and gave him another kiss as they entered the elevator. He pushed four, and kissed her back on her cheek as they waited to get to their designated floor.

"Milly, you're twenty-nine," he told her, mock scowling. "Don't tell me you still have desires for me. That's practically pedophilia."

He was one year younger than her.

"Is it, now? How old might you be, then, I wonder?"

He gave her a wide grin. "Seven," he said before the doors of the elevator opened with a loud _ding_, drowning out her reply.

They walked in an easy silence to the ballroom that was the location for Milly's party (arranged by him, of course), and when they stood in front of the huge double doors, he let go of her hand and nudged her forward.

"Go on," he told her. "You have a big night ahead of you."

A party and a proposal, it was a big night indeed. He hid a smile.

"You won't go running away now that you've done your job and brought me to my party, would you?" she asked with a maliciously sadistic grin that reminded Fuji, once again, of old times.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world."

She gave him one last smile and threw the doors open as she sauntered in.

Just as he had expected, the party was already in full throttle once he got in. He'd invited all of Milly's socialite friends, after all, as well as many others in between, and the ballroom was a jumble of bright colors and dancing bodies. After one toast of happy birthday to Milly, she was all into socializing, all smiles and laughs, like a good PR should.

Personally, he thought the job suited her very well. Him... Not so much, but he enjoyed himself, and he was with the friends he had gathered from being in the Student Council with Milly in high school. Really, they were like a family now.

It was a good job.

He waved hello to Lelouch and the others, smiled winningly to Rivalz, and headed for the small stage set up for this very purpose.

He called Milly to the stage and waited until everything, and everyone was in place, before he patted her hand, wished her a happy birthday and took out a ring that had been carefully, meticulously chosen, from its Tiffany box.

He saw her blue eyes widen, and for a moment, he was taken back.

(Tezuka's eyes would widen like that, too, when Fuji did something particularly surprising for him then.)

And when he looked again, he had to blink before Milly's eyes returned to their original color, from the striking hazel that even now, made him feel all shivery inside.

"I love you."

(_"Ne, Kunimitsu. I love you."_)

"I can't imagine anything better than to spend forever with you."

(_"We'll have forever, do you promise?"_)

"Will you share the rest of your life with me?"

(_"Let's stay together from now on, okay? Now, and tomorrow, and every single day of the rest of our lives."_)

He didn't hear the collective gasp of the audience, nor did he hear her say yes. He was far too preoccupied with the hazel eyes and the 'I love you' that he knew was fake, but he couldn't help but relish anyway. He was taken back only when she had bounded to him, and engulfed him in a big hug, telling him it was perfect, it was _all_ perfect, she didn't expect it at all, but everything was just right, and she was so happy, she would never have said no.

It was only then that he was made aware of his tears.

And once again, like he had been doing all these years, he tried to convince himself that he was crying because he was happy.

But sadly, because he wasn't naive or foolish anymore, he was only partly successful.

./.

Tezuka Kunimitsu had a perfect, enviable life.

He worked as one of the top executives of the biggest company there had ever been in Japan, with a fully-(whatever European country Atobe happened to favor that week)-furnished office, an expensive signature, a door with his name on it in gold plaque, and his own secretary and assistant. The only other person who had the exact same things (and then some) was Atobe Keigo, and he owned the company.

Atobe had recruited him almost immediately after he had graduated college, saying that ore-sama wanted only the best for his company, and he had worked himself up, slowly but surely to earning more than enough money than he could ever spend in his lifetime every month.

He was one of the most eligible, and probably richest (almost as rich as Atobe, or maybe not, but close) men in Japan. Even at almost-twenty-nine, he had kept his good looks, his impeccable charisma and aura that led people to be drawn to him, females more than any other. They swooned over him more often than not, and Tezuka had to be thankful that Atobe, at least, had the decency to hire him a secretary that wasn't insane or desperate.

He worked out (tennis), occasionally met with a few friends from back then, during junior high. And even though his arm ensured that he could never dream of entering the pro circuit, or winning a Grand Slam title, he was still rather good, and he and Atobe had a running score of sixty-seven wins and sixty-seven losses. Atobe worked out because it made him look good, and there was nothing that revealed 'ore-sama's prowess' more than tennis, but he was competitive when Tezuka needed him to be, and serious on other times. Tezuka more than put up a decent fight, and had been getting onto his sixty-eighth win, but they had been stopped by a rather urgent call for a rather urgent meeting that turned out to be about something frivolous. Tezuka still thought that Atobe had planned it all.

He lived in a decent condo, in the (much) better part of town, with furniture 'generously' chosen by Atobe, who claimed he was hopeless in design (and fashion). Tezuka didn't like half the things Atobe had stuffed into his home, but the other half was tolerable, and he'd learned, early on, to just humor Atobe and his whims because he really didn't like dealing with tantrums. Atobe threw huge, head-splitting tantrums.

Besides, the (very few) people who actually stepped foot into his home had commented on 'his sense of style,' (which was actually Atobe's, really), so he'd learned not to mind. The few items he really couldn't deal with, he'd replaced or just did away with, and he'd actually managed to convince Atobe to keep everything, at the very least, at a tolerably bland black and white. But it was a decent home and that was that.

All in all, it was a perfect, enviable life.

He didn't have a wife, or a girlfriend, because frankly, he just couldn't bring himself to look at women (or _anyone else_) that way.

(There was only ever one person that he would love. Not that he'd admit it to himself, but the fact that he stayed single, despite all these years, was proof enough.)

It was not his fault, really, he'd tried to see people, more than once, but before the end of the first meeting, he'd find a million and one different things that made his whoever-date-of-the-night intolerable. And he'd give them a small nod when they asked if he'd call them, even though their numbers would probably just end up in the trash and at the end of that night, he wouldn't even be able to remember their names if he tried. He never called them back. Not one.

It was the only stain in his otherwise perfect record. Atobe kept on trying to remedy that, of course. Blind dates, double dates, even a strip club once (though Tezuka had been quite furious and had drawn the line _right there_) but nothing ever worked, because they were all so wrong. (She had sharp, lusty eyes that weren't quite the _right_ shade of blue. It looked like she was wearing contacts, was she wearing contacts? This other girl had _too_ long a hair, did it have to reach her _knees_ like that? And it looked _dyed_, he could see dark roots an inch long beneath the faux blond. He liked honey-brown hair, thank you very much, that wasn't _dyed_. Another woman, who smelled like she had just showered in perfume, had asked him what scent he liked, and though he liked a mellow apple-and-vanilla, he told her she smelled wonderful, even though her scent was murdering his nose. And all the other girls just _talked too much_.)

Sometimes, Atobe would look at him like _that_, like he had many years ago when Tezuka still played tennis and had hid his shoulder injury from everyone excepting for those who had found out for themselves.

Like Atobe. (And... well, other genius people. A genius person. A genius person who had held the lapels of his shirt that afternoon back in his first year and had chastised him and shook and flashed angry eyes at the fact that he dare play with an injury. Who had waited for him to come back from Germany, and welcomed him home with open, eager arms and pliant, just-as-eager lips. Who had played that heart-stopping, most brilliant game with him. Who Tezuka used to –_still_- loved.)

And during his twenty-eighth birthday, instead of another forced blind date, Tezuka only received an album from Atobe, lying innocently on his desk, with a pompous red ribbon and a note that told him to 'enjoy, he could thank ore-sama later.'

He had come _this_ close to tearing it and chucking it out of the office with a quick lecture of minding your own damn business to high and mighty ore-sama.

But he had stared into those blue, blue eyes and found that once again, he couldn't.

But when Atobe had sauntered to his office, he had, of course, told him that he did not appreciate it one bit (lie), what the _hell_ had he been thinking when he gave Tezuka a present like that. Atobe had only smirked and told him "You're welcome," as if Tezuka had gone down on his knees to thank him for his 'generous thought.'

He still had the album, tucked at the very back part of the bottomest drawer of his office table. And at times, when he had nothing to do, his glance would immediately go there, and he would stop the urge to reach out and open it with so much effort. But there were also times, just for sentimental reasons, mind, that he'd open it and he'd run his hands across the glossy pages and sigh. Then, he'd close it back again, tuck it back in the back corner of the bottomest drawer of his office table because he could never get himself to throw it out, and set about drowning himself in work, until he was too exhausted to think about things and how things could have went.

He can't walk down that road again. He'd told himself that many, many times. He'd made his decision and now he lived with it, because that was just the way the world worked.

One lousy (beautiful, _beautiful_) album was not going to change that.

It wasn't going to change _anything_.

Not his perfect, enviable life that always seemed to be missing something that he could never seem to have.

(Blue eyes, perhaps, or a gentle smile. And a cheerful _"Welcome home!"_ when he got back from work. And the smell of something spicy cooking in the kitchen. And cacti in his windowsills. And photographs on his walls. And a soft _"I love you"_ before he drifted off to sleep at night.)

Tezuka's life lacked something (someone) important, something (some_one_) very important, something (_someone_) that would have made it all perfect, that would have made him _happy_.

And Tezuka, like the idiotic coward he was and the loverboy he wasn't, liked to pretend he didn't know what (_who_) it was.

* * *

Clary: It IS NOT a new writing style, Lia. I just used a different way to put together scenes in the story, that's all. Sheesh. (This idea came from my friend who writes like this. And I think it's cool, because it's just like those anime that have scenes before the opening song~ Kyaaaaa~ -fangirl scream-) Anyway, hi guys! I hope you like the first installation~~ I worked hard on it, because my pride as an author (not that there was much to begin with, BUT STILL) is on the line here.

Lia: You really should not have made that bet. I still disapprove.

Clary: No, you have to support me because you're my editor! Meanie –sticks out tongue- Anyway, it took me and Lia a very long time to decide what context we're gonna put this story in and it took almost like a week and a half to structure it. Wahahahaha~ I really didn't know writing a story where everything is normal is THAT hard.

Lia: And thus, she has a newfound respect for authors. Yes, yes, and this is the nth time I've heard this particular line of conversation, and it's getting really old.

Clary: WHATEVER, Lia. Anyway, you guys, please do review and tell me whether I have even a hair's breadth of chance that I might win this bet. PLEASE? (Because if I don't, I'll just delete this and go on writing other story with my missing pride)

Lia: I don't believe you.

Clary: Ignore her, guys, she is PMS-ing. But please do leave a note to tell me whatcha guys think, kay?


	2. Verse 01

**OUR HEARTS GO OUT TO:**

Alatarielf: Thank YOU so much :) We actually didn't even expect this to be reviewed or even READ because... well, just because (haha :)) so we're glad you liked it~ We decided to post this first chapter extra early because we love you so much~~~ Also, we hope your books are okay, and that we did not distract your study time (Lia worried herself half-sick, just in case you wanna know ;))

:)

Lia: I think it's a fair warning to you guys though: Clary is fast losing interest in this story, because it's normal, she says. I really don't understand her sometimes.

Clary: But it's hard~~~~~ I didn't know writing these kinds of stories would be THIS hard, it's positively excruciating~~ _**TO ALL AUTHORS WHO WRITE ABOUT EX-LOVER DRAMA/ANGST, I RESPECT YOU**_ because THIS is HARD, damnit. This chapter even turned out so horrible, I don't even know. I have no face to show anyone anymore, I should never have accepted that bet.

Lia: I hate to say this but, I TOLD YOU SO –smug- (why is that sentence in capitals, bold, italics and underline?)

Clary: Waaaaaaaaaa~~~~ (it's for emphasis, Lia, sheesh... and I hate to say this but, DUH! –smug and sticks out tongue- ha! I win!)

Lia: At any rate, please do enjoy this horrible chapter. (-sigh- You are such a child.)

* * *

Fuji thought he was dealing with a hangover.

He had lost count of how many shots of whatever-the-new-alcoholic-drink-someone-thrust-in-his-hand he had drunk, and by the end of the night, he had resulted to taking up Milly's offer to stay in her hotel suite.

...He slept on the couch. And when he woke up, tending one of the strongest hangovers he had ever experienced, he was glad to note that at least, he still had his clothes on, and that they were the right set of clothes.

Milly was wild like that.

Though it was still quite bad, because the couch hadn't been made for sleeping on, so in addition to his hangover, he had an aching body, and watery eyes, because Milly had not pulled the cutains of the room shut and the strong morning sunlight hurt his eyes and his hungover head.

He didn't know how long he sat there, wincing against the sun, trying to get to the curtains and failing, but by the time Milly had awokened, and took note of his sorry, pathetic state, he was close to crying.

She shoved a packet of pills to his hand quietly, closed the curtains, thank goodness, and left to make coffee.

"Thanks," he said, taking two and swallowing them dry. They helped some, though they still didn't get rid of most of the pounding, at the very least, he wasn't close to tears any longer. "...Don't make coffee," he said belatedly.

Milly made horrible coffee.

"It's my hotel room," she retorted from the en suite kitchen. "I'm making coffee and you're drinking."

A few minutes later, she came out with a beautiful china cup, and Fuji tried to pretend that he didn't know whatever was inside it wasn't as beautiful. She thrust it in his hand again, and he wondered, briefly, if she even tasted her own creation.

He sniffed at the contents delicately, hoping that it would have at the very least, improved somewhat. "Smells nice." It smelled awful.

"Don't patronize me," she replied, taking a cup of her own, sipping and frowning. But she maintained her composure.

This early in the morning, she wasn't as cheerful, not that she was all that cheerful to begin with. It was a mask, to help with work. In high school, she used it to get the teachers to allow her too-many festivals in her student council presidency. (And of course, he and Lelouch had been left to deal with all the paperworks and the headaches that those caused.) In university, she used to it sail through her classes, and once again, win another dictatorial student council presidency position during her first year there. (Needless to say, she sat on the president chair for the rest of her four years in that university.) Now, with her job in arranging and setting up events, it was more than a little useful.

"Lacks sugar," she said, before stalking back into the kitchen. Probably to throw the entire thing to the sink. He wouldn't put it past her. "But drink it anyway. It'll make you feel better."

Fuji sincerely doubted that. But he sucked it up and took a sip anyway. It was even worse than the last one he had attempted to drink. He gave a half-smile. "Mmm," he teased and she punched his arm lightly.

"Anyway, I have a surprise for you," she told him, perching lightly on the table before his couch. He put away the cup after bravely attempting five sips and tried to sit up.

He spared her a glance and his eyes widened. "Are you wearing lingerie?"

She frowned, obviously displeased by his reaction. "It's new, and it's my sleepwear," she said, sniffing. Her smile turned devious. "Want some?"

The engagement ring glittered on her finger as she fingered the lace.

"And aren't you going to ask me what my surprise is?"

Fuji smiled. "I don't want any, thank you. Why are you wearing lingerie?"

She pouted, winding her arms around his neck, and sidling up closer to him. "I have a surprise," she said again, forcefully this time, emphasizing every word.

She whipped out two plane tickets and dangled them in front of his face, too close for him to actually see the words. "Ta-da!"

"Um." Plane tickets? "Plane tickets?"

"Remember that time when a request came from Japan for us to arrange an event there?" she asked.

"...No." Of course he remembered. He remembered that when the request came, he'd almost dropped the vase of flowers he had been holding. He remembered everyone excitedly talking about it as they arranged the tables for some dinner he hardly remembered anymore. He remembered it was for an October birthday.

He remembered thinking about Tezuka. He remembered excusing himself, going to the bathroom, retching, and nothing coming out, going through the dinner feeling very wrong but (fake) smiling anyway, and halfway through the night, after the dinner, while everyone else was partying in one of Milly's favorite clubs, he was curling up in his bed in the clothes he hadn't bothered to change, underneath the covers, trying to stop his body from shaking, telling himself that his eyes were dry.

Of course he remembered.

She pouted at him again and he relented. "Yes, fine. I remember. You and Shirley were going, I think."

"See, that's the thing," she said, settling herself on his lap. "Shirley has a swimming thing. So I told Lulu you'd go in her place."

He stiffened. She did not just... "I'm not." He tried to run his mind through his schedule for the next few days. "I have a dinner on-"

"Yes, you are. I'd already arranged everything with Lulu," she cut him off with a finger to his lips. "Shirley's taking the dinner. And every other event you'd be busy with." She waved the tickets in his face again. "It will be a before-the-wedding thing!"

"I'm not going, Milly."

She frowned and peered at his face. "Come on, Syusuke," she wheedled. "I wanna meet your family."

"My family is _here_ in America."

If she took offense at the correction, she didn't show it. "Well, your sister said you had friends there, didn't she?"

Syusuke tried to hide the wince with a bland smile. "I hardly kept contact, Milly. I bet they don't even remember me anymore."

"Like hell someone would forget about you," she scoffed, peering at him through her eyelashes. "It's just Japan." Her eyes darkened into a deeper blue shade. "That's your home country, isn't it?" _What are you afraid of?_

He dropped his head on the crook between her shoulder and neck, breathing in her scent. She smelled like oranges. "...Fine." _Nothing. I'm afraid of nothing._

She grinned up and kissed him on the cheek. "Excellent." She jumped off his lap and flew to her bedroom. "Let's get packing."

He looked at his hands. His gaze was swimming. "I'm not afraid of anything," he told his fingers, willing them to tell him that he was right, he wasn't afraid of anything.

They gave no answer.

* * *

**THE MELODY OF TWO HEARTS**

**Verse 01**

_**I reach for you**_

* * *

The PR that Atobe had hired was nothing short of Atobe's kind of girl.

She had a beautiful face, an ample chest, long white legs, and wasn't afraid of flirting. She wore a dress that made her look both like she was going on a business meeting and going out to a night club. She wore her hair down and they cascaded down her shoulder in elegantly styled locks.

Tezuka could not hate her appearance. In fact, if Tezuka was looking, _really _looking, he would have appreciated her perfect face on top of her perfect body. But she had blue eyes that reminded him of someone else's, and he resented her for it, no matter how unfair that made him.

She smiled at him (almost sultrily) as he entered Atobe's office. "This is the other birthday boy?" she chirped cheerily, in British-accented Japanese. "Hello. Milly Ashford, at your service." She paused. "Or, should I say Ashford Milly?" Another pause. "Right?"

"Ah," he replied. "Tezuka Kunimitsu." Behind his desk, Atobe looked pleased.

He narrowed his eyes and glared at him. "Ore-sama," Atobe said strongly, pretending he did not see, and drawing Milly Ashford's attention back to him. "Was kind enough to share this event with him." He reached out and took the girl's hand. "He would forget it otherwise, you see."

She giggled, bringing a hand up to her mouth. A ring glittered from her ring finger.

She was engaged. Atobe knew she was engaged. Atobe was flirting anyway.

Tezuka wanted to leave and firmly erase the image from his mind. But Atobe probably wouldn't let him off, anyway, so he settled on the farthest chair from Atobe's table and half-listened as they discussed details of the event and wasted time he could have spent working so that Atobe could preen in front of him and he could avoid a tantrum that would have resulted otherwise.

He judged some thirty minutes would be more than enough to placate Atobe that he actually spared some interest in this.

"Excuse me?" she asked, and then paused, and said, "Oh."

Tezuka looked up and wondered what Atobe had said to momentarily erase the girl's cheerful smile.

"You must forgive me," she was saying. "My Japanese is rudimentary, at best. My partner was supposed to speak it for me."

"Ah, but you are doing well with what you have, Miss Ashford," Atobe was saying, in perfect, fluent English, with an obvious subliminal message.

Tezuka decided he had enough.

"If you'll excuse me," he said, rising from his seat. "I have to go."

Atobe didn't even look at him. He wondered if he should slam the door.

On his way to his office, he noticed the elevator dinging to announce another arrival on the floor where only he, Atobe and a few handful of others worked.

That was probably Milly Ashford's Japanese partner. He wondered if said partner was going to mind that his engaged co-worker was flirting with their client.

Said partner probably wasn't going to mind. They were American PRs, after all.

They were as free as you'd get.

(Syusuke would probably enjoy the job, considering.)

Tezuka shook his head off of such thoughts and closed the door to his office at the same time the elevator doors parted and a blue-eyed, honey-haired man walked in.

./.

Milly said she was meeting with the client first thing in the morning. Fuji had planned to go with her. Then he found out who their client was and told her it was probably best that he didn't go.

He might strangle Atobe Keigo, and that would have caused great problems for their agency to know that he, one of their best and most charming PRs had tried to strangle a client on the first meeting.

It was not Fuji's fault, of course. It was just people's natural reaction with the guy. Or Fuji's anyway. Other people tended to fall to the ground at his feet.

Other people were kiss-ups.

And if there was one thing Fuji Syusuke wasn't, it was a kiss-up. And he had a very good reason for it, too.

He had too much pride to actually be awed by the sight of a man who was low enough to actually continue playing a game when the opponent very obviously was having a hard time because he was injured. So what if the opponent insisted on playing? He should have stopped, anyway. He knew that they were tennis-obsessed morons, but where was the human compassion? He only actually stopped when he _won_ the game, the bastard. _And_ he had the gall to show remorse and have his coach offer a chance for a rehabilitation facility _halfway across the world_ afterwards.

Of course he didn't like him.

But he was the client now, so he had to pretend that he felt, at the very least, even the slightest modicum of civility towards the pompous brat that had destroyed Tezu-

He broke off his thoughts when the elevator doors opened. There was no good dwelling on thoughts like that, it was stupid.

He had presented his name at the lobby, and was fairly sure that Atobe's secretary knew about his presence by now, and she did. He forced a pleasant smile at the sight of her overly tight, impossibly short skirt and her cleavage (and now that he thought about it, the breasts _had_ to be fake).

"Fuji Syusuke-san?" she asked in a voice that he guessed she would have had if he was having sex with her. His smile widened when he thought of probably how many times Atobe called her in his room for 'coffee breaks.'

"Yes."

"Please wait a moment." She smiled at him seductively and he wondered if Atobe knew that this was how she treated his every other guest, but he guessed it wasn't his business to tell. At any rate, it still wouldn't be _his_ fault if Atobe contracted some stupid disease, it served him right for sleeping around.

When the door closed behind her, it couldn't have been one moment too soon.

"Syusuke!" was his only warning before he was engulfed in a tight, enthusiastic hug. He peered through the kisses Milly was now showering on his face to see the great and mighty _ore-sama_ looking at him in shock.

"Atobe-san," Milly said, still with her horrible accent (he'd tried to teach her, many times, but she never listened properly, and somehow, always, over time, ended up in his lap). "This is my partner, Fuji Syusuke."

"That's alright, Milly," Fuji replied with easy grace, taking stock of the open mouth and the wide eyes. "I doubt the great and mighty ore-sama has forgotten about me."

"Forgotten?" Milly repeated. "Is he one of the friends your sister told me about?"

Atobe blinked and slid back just as easily to his haughty demeanor. "You can say it is more of he was a player of a rival tennis team, Miss Ashford." He struck a pose. "He would never have been graced by ore-sama's presence otherwise."

Fuji was about to give an equally sharp retort when Milly gripped his wrist and levelled him with a calculating stare. "You play tennis?"

Fuji turned to Atobe and glared. "I did. It's inconsequential."

"Hardly," Atobe answered, returning Fuji's glare with his own hard gaze.

Fuji could feel Milly shifting uncomfortably, just a minute movement, to show that she understood the atmosphere in the room. He could feel her piercing gaze, and he knew she was relieving the conversation they had that day when he'd said no, and she'd wheedled him into coming to Japan with her.

"Well," she said after a short pause, her cheer not diminishing one bit, though her eyes were sharp. "I'll just go interview Tezuka-san, then." Fuji's body stiffened in shock and he drew in a sharp breath to calm himself down. "So that you boys have time to catch up."

And she was gone, leaving him alone in the room with Atobe Keigo, who was eyeing him with a smirk because they both knew that his reaction to Tezuka's name did not pass unseen.

"You took Tezuka," he said bluntly, advancing towards Atobe unconsciously.

"And if I did?" Atobe asked, still smirking, watching Fuji fight the urge to _do something_. "I didn't, of course, ore-sama has tons of other lovers, but you gave up any claim you had on him when you ran away."

"Ran away?" he echoed bitterly. "Of course you'd think that."

"What else would anyone think, Fuji? You left Japan. Didn't even bother to return, and wouldn't have, if not for this," he said, raising an eyebrow, challenging Fuji to contradict what he was saying. "That's standard running away right there."

"You don't know anything," Fuji responded fiercely. Atobe had no right, _no right at all_, poking into Fuji's old wounds when he'd worked so hard to pretend that they have all healed. He was there, was he, when Tezuka shoved his hand into Fuji's chest, ripped out his heart and threw it away like some useless piece of trash? He _wasn't_, so he didn't know, so he had _no right_ to even talk to Fuji about this. _No right_ to act like a condescending know-it-all, as if everything in the world happened exactly the way he saw it when it _didn't_.

"How many times do you think I've spent with a drunk Tezuka over the past few years?"

Fuji was strongly tempted to say 'zero' because Tezuka was too _Tezuka_ to drink irresponsibly, or to show a vulnerable part of himself to anyone else if he ever did. But then again, he reminded himself, Atobe knew Tezuka better than him now, so he said nothing.

"How many times do you think I've seen him pine after you when he thought no one was looking?" Atobe continued. "He still loves you, Fuji, and from your pathetic self in front of ore-sama right now, ore-sama can see you love him, too. Ore-sama knows that much, and it is enough."

Of _course_ he'd think that. Fuji really shouldn't have expected anything more from a spoiled brat. "I _envy_ your ignorance."

"And your denial is as flimsy as they come." Atobe relaxed against his seat and pretended to sigh. "What is it with you two lovebirds and your adversity to happiness?"

Fuji gave him a wide, mocking smile. "What makes you think I'm not happy?"

"What do _you_ think makes me think you're not happy, Fuji?" Atobe shot back, taking on that damnable pose that Fuji had always disliked.

"Why is it that you care? If there was anything I knew about you, it was that you cared only about yourself."

And Atobe, like Fuji had expected him to, pretended to feel offended. (He knew that they both knew he was right.) "I do not," Atobe exploded, looking very much miffed. He had good acting skills. "But it's about time you two pitiable souls get on with your lives and just kiss and make up already. The depressing atmosphere is bad for ore-sama's skin."

Fuji felt another spark of anger, but he kept himself in check. He had a reputation and an agency to protect. "Is that it, then? You _pity_ me?" The corners of his mouth turned down in distaste. "I don't need your sympathy, Atobe. Save it for the people who need it."

"Ore-sama's sympathy is overflowing. All you poor souls in this world need it," Atobe replied, haughty and proud. "There's hardly a reason why you do not need it as well."

"Try this: _because I am not pitiful_." And it was _true_, Fuji wasn't. Tezuka was the past, and he will forever stay there, Fuji was moving on, Fuji was happy. So long as the Tezuka box was kept firmly shut, and so long as the pieces of himself that broke stayed together, he was okay.

He may have been broken once, but he wasn't anymore.

He _wasn't_. Not anymore.

There was a long silence that felt like it could stretch on forever, and Fuji was just about to announce that he would leave and drag Milly out of her flirting session with Tezuka when Atobe sighed once again (he pretended to sigh, he _pretended_).

"She's very pretty," he said, referring to Milly and his body tightened protectively. "Are you marrying _her_, Fuji?"

He bit back the 'you have no business with my private life' because he knew it wouldn't work, Atobe didn't understand those boundaries. Instead, he said, "So what? You have no right to tell me who I can and cannot marry. You don't know anything about me, so don't pretend that you do."

"Ore-sama knows you love Tezuka, the way he's hung up over you," Atobe shot back. "Ore-sama knows you came back here, only to show up with your ring on some woman's finger-"

"I _never_ said," Fuji interrupted angrily. "That I still loved Tezuka. Tezuka never even loved me at all. And now I-"

Fuji broke off when Milly entered the room once again, and before he let himself wonder if she had just been listening at the other side of the door all along, and if she had heard anything at all, he strode towards her, almost angrily, took her left hand and raised it, brandishing the glittering ring that had taken up residence there. "I love Milly," he continued. "Not just _some woman_, but Milly. So, in fact, as it turns out, you really don't know anything about me at all, do you?"

And before either Milly or Atobe could open their mouths, he left, slamming the door on Atobe and the hateful pose that had haunted him ever since the day Atobe had destroyed the arm of the person Fuji had once treasured the most.

./.

This was probably the hundredth time Tezuka had read the same paragraph of the same document over again. And he still wasn't even close to comprehending it as he had when he first started.

He sighed. _This_ was why blue eyes, no matter what shade they came in, were bad for him. _Every single time_ he saw them, he was reminded of a particular pair that had trembled in pain when Tezuka made the single, most hardest decision of his life.

He sighed and spared the bottom drawer a glance, the sentimental part of his mind warring (and losing) against the rational part. He had just about killed every desire to take the album when his phone rang.

He picked up the receiver, thankful for the interruption. "Tezuka."

"Ahn, and still sulking over the birthday party ore-sama was kind enough to share with you?"

Tezuka mentally counted to ten, before he snapped at the phone, "What do you want?"

"Why Tezuka, you're one of the few who ore-sama actually graces with his voice," the voice at the other end said, carrying the smug tone that Tezuka really didn't have the patience for right now. "You should be honored."

"Atobe," he said firmly. "If I don't hear any legitimate reason as to why you're calling me in the next few seconds, I'm hanging up."

"Ore-sama is hurt," Atobe replied, and Tezuka put the phone down.

Of course, just as expected, the phone started ringing once again. He sighed as he picked it up. "Say what you need and be done with it."

He heard the other man chuckle. "How fast can you get to the lobby if you used the service stairs?"

Tezuka blinked. What? Was Atobe even _aware_ of how many floors above the lobby this part of the building was? What kind of question was that, anyway?

"I'm hanging up," he announced.

"Tezuka, trust me and answer the question." And after a long pause, he had the gall to add, "You'll be happy."

Tezuka brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache incoming. The last time he trusted Atobe without asking any questions, he found himself getting tipsy in a strip club, hounding off strippers who looked like they were about to devour him whole.

"Goodbye, Atobe." He put the phone down again, annoyed that on top of his look-at-the-album-don't-look-at-the-album dilemma (which, if he thought about it, was _also_ brought on by Atobe), he also had an Atobe-induced migraine coming along.

He got up, frustrated and drew the curtains to block out the harsh sunlight, just as Fuji Syusuke and Milly Ashford emerged from the building, right underneath his windows, several floors down.

* * *

Clary: I hate this. Ugh. I have no talent writing these kinds of fiction whatsoever.

Lia: Congratulations (/sarcasm). As you guys may know, she was writing a completely different story when she took the bet and started writing this one (it's kingdom-military AU), and she's back to being enthusiastic over it (she actually FINISHED the first chapter). It is VERY hard and VERY painful to be her editor and get her back on track to where she's supposed to direct her attention to. She is such a troublesome writer, and I am developing a twitch because of it.

Clary: WELL, I GOT INSPIRATION FOR IT, you should be happy, Lia, because you won't have trouble with me writing the other story when we decide to post it.

Lia: PROVIDED you finish this one, of course. I'm not letting you post anything until this one gets finished, thanks.

Clary: But... but... BUT I COULD!

Lia: Might I remind you this account belongs to both of us? I could change the password as easily as you can :P

Clary: BITCH.

Lia: So you better get your act together, or you'll never be able to post anything else.

Clary: Fine. You're such a MEANIE, Lia, I don't know why we're friends. SO PLEASE don't forget to leave me a review guys, I NEED THE INSPIRATION, or I'll never be able to post my other story. Waaaaaahhhhh~~~

Review, kay?


	3. Verse 02

**OUR HEARTS GO OUT TO:**

Alatarielf: We love you! Did we tell you that yet? LOVELOVELOVE~ :) Maa, we're glad you liked the chapter, and that your books are okay (read: from Lia)~ The AU's perfect pair of course(kya!) but it starts out a bit... differently. Clary's working hard on it (to Lia's constant frustration) and is even reading history books now, so she gets sufficient research material for it~~ Wahaha~~ (Four chappies down already!) Oh, btw, Milly's sort-of-maybe-but-not-really an OC (please read AN below :))

Shuzuka: Yes, we think so, too. –sigh- Normal stories... Don't worry! Clary has constant inspiration now that she is loaded with history books (courtesy of Lia) and of course it will be finished! It frustrates us when stories get discontinued too! We have to finish this piece before we post the other one though :)

fujiyuki: Wahaha~ It frustrated Lia too! (Like: "What the hell is this completely coincidental-but-convenient-for-_your_-idea set of circumstances? Can you _at least_ make it more... Ugh!") And of course~ Tezuka will be knight-in-shining-armor saving Fuji from evil Atobe's teasing clutches~ Wahaha~ Also, Milly's sort of not an OC (please read AN below)

animangadeek0624: Don't worry~ You're not a bad reader~ We're happy for your reviews~~ And thanks for your wonderful compliments~ We hope you liked Death Play~ Also, you are completely right! (please read AN below)

zAza. eL. mikA: (For some strange reason, we can't type your name properly in fanfiction's formatting.. We're sorry) Don't worry, we'll try our best, ne? Here's the next chapter~~ And we'll do everything we can to finish it~ We hate reading unfinished stories, too!

:)

Lia: Okay. To clear up, Clary here stole the names of all the OCs in this story from her new fandom, and my new archenemy, because it's been keeping her from writing anything _because_ she has been watching episode-after-repeated-episode of all its two seasons.

Clary: I LOVE IT~~~ IT IS AWESOME AND OHMYGOSH –fangirl scream- it is the best inspiration for my kingdom AU story and DID I MENTION HOW AWESOME IT IS?

Lia: She loves it. However, she is having a 'tiff' with it because-

Clary: WTF, LELOUCH DIES! WHY must he die, he is the freaking awesomest, most genius character in the entire fucking thing! He SHOULD NOT HAVE died, damn it!

Lia: Therefore, she swore that she will never (Clary: never EVER EVER) enter its fanfiction archive OR write a fanfiction about it (not that it's any loss to its fanfiction community, in my opinion) until its creators make a third season where um.. what were the terms again, Clary?

Clary: Where Lelouch is ALIVE because Charles' Code gets transferred to him like it rightfully should, thank you very much.

Lia: But since she loves it so much, and is itching to write something about its characters, making them part of this story is her way of skirting her oath, because it's the quote, apparent loophole, endquote. Yes, I disapproved of it. Yes, she didn't listen. Yes, I'm keeping her away from the computer right now, because she'll just rant about how awful it is that Lelouch died, and how she hates it creators for it.

But now that the OC thing is explained (we don't own them, either, btw), please do enjoy this chapter :)

* * *

Throughout the ride to their hotel, Syusuke was impossibly quiet.

Sure he was smiling, but Milly, after spending more than half his life with him, knew that smile. It was a smile he used when he had been pushed more than a little bit too far and promised retribution to whatever idiot had been stupid enough to cross him. Milly had been the receiving end of that smile, too, more than once, actually, and even though Syusuke never extracted revenge on her, it made him all the more adverse to the next festival she planned to put up, which was more than enough revenge against her, actually, because damn it, there wasn't a much better prize that could keep the entire student body enthusiastic about a festival (and yes, that included even the male half of the student body) than Syusuke. Well, Lelouch, too, but Lelouch was more useful in other places. Like budget calculations. And paperwork. (Not that Syusuke wasn't useful there, but he was more useful in other places. Like in a dress, maybe, or on the stage with his kiss as a prize to the winner.)

Though however much Syusuke had been pissed off before, he'd never been as angry as he was right now. It was like his very blood was simmering in anger, his body poised and coiled to strike. That conversation he had with Atobe must have hit several nerves, because she'd never seen him like this.

_Never._

Admittedly, though, there was very little that she knew about Syusuke's past. They'd tried asking, but he'd always manipulate the conversation so that they'd only remember their original purpose several minutes after they exchanged goodbyes. If they pushed too far, he'd smile _like that_, and they knew better than to continue the line of questioning.

She didn't even _know_ he played tennis. Actually, like Lelouch, he recoiled at anything that was physical, even going so far as to skip Phys Ed classes, a habit she was sure he'd picked up from the king of the slackers himself. They'd toured the clubs, sure, but only his younger brother Yuuta actually showed any interest at tennis (and was actually so good, he became the god of the tennis club). The one time she asked, he'd laughingly told her that he couldn't even last one game before he'd be panting with exhaustion.

He'd been getting collective bad grades from his endurance runs long enough for her to be convinced he was telling the truth. Besides, the one time she coerced the rest of the Student Council to go to a tennis center with her (with Yuuta, as the guest-of-honor), he couldn't even grip the racket properly, and settled for calling encouragements at the sidelines with Lelouch (who refused to even step on the courts) after Yuuta got annoyed and physically pushed him out the courts, ranting about people who did not understand tennis.

And today, she finds out that tennis had actually been a great part of his pre-Student Council (pre-Milly) life.

_Why the hell did he lie?_

She chanced another glance at him, wondering just how much more of what she knew about him was a lie. Did he like flowers just as much as he claimed to love? Did he actually know how to paint, or take photographs, when he insisted he didn't and settled to being the class model? Did he actually even consider the Student Council his friends?

Did he love them (her) like he said he did?

She knew Syusuke was aware of her stare but he didn't say anything until they were sitting on the couch of their room. It annoyed her, how easily she was being put off, but it would have to take a backseat for now.

"You heard everything, didn't you?"

"You lied," she huffed, unremorseful. "You play tennis. How much more of the Syusuke I know is a lie?"

Syusuke gave her a small smile. "None, really. I _used to_ play tennis," Syusuke responded, before biting his lip and looking away. "You know why I don't anymore."

"Do I?" Milly blinked her eyes, looking at Syusuke's forlorn profile. Oh. "Oh." She forgot. How could she? For a year after Syusuke came into their school, his attendance had been erratic at best because of it. "I'm sorry."

Syusuke hummed, drawing his knees to his chest. "There's nothing to be sorry for." He seemed, for a moment, lost in recollection, but when his gaze panned back to her, his eyes were clear.

"You were involved with Tezuka-san?" Milly questioned next, raising her eyebrow.

"It was in the past, Milly," he assured her. "It was ugly and awful and I'm glad it's over."

"Atobe-san said you still loved him." That had been a shock, and she had clutched both hands on her chest so tighty, her new ring dug into the skin of her palm. She fingered it now, before raising her eyes to meet his.

Syusuke's eyes, though, were closed. "Atobe always thinks things." He smiled, but she had a strange feeling about that smile. She didn't recognize it, and for a moment, Syusuke was actually closed off to her. "Doesn't make them true, though."

She didn't like feeling him closed off. The only time he had been was during those awful first months, when, if he ever did come to school, he was pale, quiet, and hardly even opened his mouth.

They'd coaxed him out to become the Syusuke he is right now, but it had been a slow process, because Syusuke had plunged himself into a hole so deep and so dark, he was almost beyond saving.

"He sounded so sure to me."

"He always does. Don't worry," Syusuke, if possible, curled up around himself even more. "Tezuka has made the true extent of our relationship very clear."

She watched as Syusuke looked down to his knees and hunched forward until his bangs covered his eyes. He gave a small breathy laugh that must have felt as hollow as it sounded. "Very clear," he repeated softly.

And at that moment, Milly _knew_.

She didn't know how she was so sure, she didn't even know what made her this sure, but she _knew_ and she was sure.

She knew Syusuke enough.

Syusuke loved Tezuka-san.

Syusuke _loved_ Tezuka-san. She could tell, watching Syusuke like this, that Tezuka-san had once meant a lot to Syusuke, had occupied a large part of his heart.

With a small twinge, she also realized that he probably still did. Even if Syusuke _said_ he didn't love him anymore, because of the pain that had been caused because of that past love, _especially _with the way Syusuke loved, Tezuka-san still owned a large part of his heart.

So what part was left for them (her)?

"You loved him very much." She didn't even bother phrasing it as a question. The looming fact was so very obvious, even she couldn't pretend to deny it.

Syusuke didn't answer, instead choosing to watch her with a gaze that was half-familiar, half-foreign. It was as if someone took the Syusuke that she knew and mixed him up with someone she didn't know entirely.

She shifted uncomfortably under that gaze.

"Milly," Syusuke said finally, breaking the thick silence. "Can I ask something from you?"

And as Milly listened to him talk, she chastised herself for not expecting this. On hindsight, she should have, but she had been too busy wondering about Syusuke and Syusuke's heart and just how big a part did she occupy in it.

She was very, very protective over that, because she loved Syusuke tremendously and couldn't handle being just nothing in his life.

She curled her hands into fists on her lap. "Are you sure?"

He smiled at her reassuringly, but she wasn't fooled. "It's okay for me, but... Are you really sure?"

He nodded, dropping his head back to his knees.

She heaved a sigh, before putting back her cheerful mask. She strode towards him and kissed the top of his head. "You'll have the entire day to really think about it, okay?" She paused. "Sleep on it. And if, in the morning, you still feel the same way, then know that I'm okay with whatever you decide on."

Syusuke raised his eyes and gave Milly a genuine smile. "Thank you."

* * *

**THE MELODY OF TWO HEARTS**

**Verse 02**

_**You seem so near yet so far**_

* * *

He'd spent the entire day and the entire night lying down on his bed alternating between sleeping and feeling utterly horrible.

And rightfully so, because he never should have asked Milly to do what he asked her to do. It was low and horrible, and something no decent person would ever ask of another decent person. And yet, Milly agreed, and even went so far as to call back home to get permission (well, it wasn't getting permission so much as informing, but _still_).

And they all supported him, said it was okay, because they were his _friends_.

He was a sorry excuse for a human being, let alone a friend.

He didn't know how it happened, he was angry, and he really should not have allowed Atobe to rile him like that, he knew better, but there was just _something_ with Atobe that made him completely disagreeable and annoying to Fuji.

Perhaps, if he hadn't been ready to ruin someone's arm (and consequently, that someone's bright future, as well) just to be able to play a tennis match, then maybe he would have at least been tolerable. Fuji even had a sneaking suspicion that he might actually like him.

Fuji chuckled self-depreciatingly at his train of thought. It was just another proof, after all, of how much of his life had been shaped by Tezuka.

While he didn't even leave the smallest mark on Tezuka's life, at all.

"_I don't think I really need you anymore."_

And he curled closer around himself so he could forget just how much it hurt. It had been more than ten years ago, and it _still_ hurt.

His phone blinked, its feeble light altogether too strong for the semi-darkness he'd thrown his room into. It was vibrating distractingly, because he'd put it on his bed, and because Milly put it on vibrate, though, on hindsight, he probably should not have let her. But she would have done it anyway, in typical Milly fashion, so he supposed he was smart not to have wasted anymore energy on a lost argument.

... He didn't want to look at his phone, because he knew that it would just show just how many messages Yuuta had sent him, and just how many messages he had ignored. He wasn't in the mood to pretend-happy right now, and if he wasn't in the mood, Yuuta generally got the idea and yelled, he had long since stopped believing Fuji's empty reassurances.

Yuuta'd completely been disbelieving ever since their welcome party, actually. He'd said he was okay, but had drunk himself half to death in the party, and had a hell of a hangover (and a Yuuta lecture) the next day. Fuji didn't remember much of that party, and he liked to think it was because he was drunk. And he _had_ to be drunk, because he had told Yuuta that he was _okay_ with that ghastly Mituli boy now that he had shown significant remorse (_and he_ _wasn't_, Mikuri was a bad influence and Yuuta protesting his drunken hug afterwards had been more than enough proof of _that_, what kind of decent older brother would want bad influences like Miduki near their cute little brothers, anyway?).

Yuuta's number was even the first speed dial on his phone, and though Milly resented it, even she was unable to override that, because Fuji was under strict orders to call, whenever he had problems, but he'd never called, and Yuuta didn't even know he was in Japan. Yuuta would be furious that he had neglected to inform him of this particular development, but at least it would save his younger brother the high blood pressure.

Fuji laughed to himself and wondered when exactly everything changed, and their roles had switched and Yuuta was suddenly his older brother. Or his mother. Or both. At any rate, he was better at the older brother thing than Fuji had ever been. Twenty-eight years and he still wasn't getting the hang of it. Worse, he had shirked so much in his older brotherly duties that he had suddenly been demoted to younger brother without him even knowing.

But then again, both he and Yuuta were completely justified.

Considering Tezuka and...

Considering.

The phone blinked and vibrated about three more times before he gave up, texted to tell Yuuta he was fine, and hoped it was enough.

Because Yuuta knowing he was in Japan would probably not go over very well.

Especially if he found out that Fuji was in Japan so he could arrange an event for his client, Tezuka.

./.

Syusuke had been sure, he said, and Milly had been ready. She had been more than ready, in fact, because if Tezuka-san thought she was just going to up and give Syusuke up to him just _because_ he had history with Syusuke, then he's got another thing coming.

She and Syusuke had history, too. And, unlike Tezuka-san, it was a history that would actually make Syusuke _smile_.

She was thankful that whatever else happened in that meeting with Atobe-san, she had at least been able to set a time for a meeting in a quaint, decent-looking restaurant that Atobe-san said that Tezuka-san knew about (preferred).

Milly liked the restaurant, because it was decent and quaint, though it had a flirty girl on the counter with impossibly large breasts that kept on trying to flirt with (shove her breasts at) Syusuke. On other times, she might have laughed and pushed Syusuke onto the lady, but because things have changed now, she smiled dangerously and made a show out of being lovey-dovey while picking cakes with Syusuke.

And when it still didn't stop the girl from trying to flirt with (shove her breasts at) Syusuke, she got it in her head that she was either helplessly dense or just plain stupid. She was leaning more to the stupid part when she caught the lady watching from the corner of her eye.

Her smile widened as they got to their table. She chose it well, so it was close enough to the door, but secluded enough so not many people would see. Just maybe certain flirting (breast-shoving) ladies who stood by the counter. And probably people who came in through the door, but they really weren't her concern until much later.

This particular restaurant was more free this time in the morning, anyway, and there were only about a handful of people actually staying at the tables. There was more than enough space for everybody, because they'd picked a table for four people, but because she felt a little spiteful, and more than a little mischievous, she straddled Syusuke's lap.

"Mil-"

She liked it when Syusuke said her name like that, but this time, she didn't let him go halfway before she kissed him.

It was only when the girl on the counter put their food down that she bothered taking her lips off of Syusuke's.

He had that wide, deer-in-the-headlights look about him, like he always did when he was unwittingly drawn into kisses. He looked absolutely delightful, and she wished she could have taken a photo (she had enough mind to momentarily gauge the flirt's reaction, though, and felt horribly victorious because she _won_).

Anyone else would have been super mad, but Syusuke wasn't anyone else, and that was exactly why she liked doing things like this, because even though it got her in trouble, it never got her in trouble with _Syusuke_.

Syusuke smiled slowly, languid and smooth, winding his arms around her waist. "Hmmm..." he tilted his head to the side. "That was some nice kissing."

She giggled. "That's because my fiance is such a good kisser, my dear, and I've had much practice."

"Oh?" Syusuke raised an eyebrow. "You know, Milly, I never pegged you for a cheating woman. Your fiance would be most disappointed."

"But, _Syusuke_," she leaned forward once again, until her face was only a breath away from his. "I'm kissing _my fiance_ right now. That's not cheating."

"Really?"

"Really." And she leaned down to kiss him again.

Syusuke was beautiful when he kissed, even Milly can admit that much. He had this way about him, and it never changed, no matter how many times it happened, and Milly always liked to watch him like this. It was simply adorable, the way his eyes fluttered close just so his long, thick lashes could draw the attention to his flushing cheeks that were always an indescribable shade of rose.

Moreover, it served her purpose now, and as she looked up to see Tezuka-san frozen on the doorway, she couldn't help but give him a winning smile against Syusuke's own lips.

./.

If Tezuka knew that Atobe would sulk, he never would have hung up the phone on him.

Atobe was very much a child when he sulked, and of course, could only be calmed down by Tezuka promising to do something for him. Tezuka wondered just how much the reporters would pay for a scene of a sulking Atobe, but however much the satisfaction (and the money), it probably wasn't worth losing his job.

"Come _on_, Tezuka," Atobe wheedled on the way to the car idling by in the basement. "Ore-sama was even thoughtful enough to suggest a restaurant that _you _liked, though how such a plebeian monstrosity struck your fancy is beyond me."

Tezuka wanted to say that he liked that particular place because he knew Atobe would never want to be there, but it would probably only make Atobe sulk more, and he was sulking so much already as it is.

"Besides, it's your party, too," Atobe continued, steadily growing a threatening aura. "Don't make ore-sama regret the decision of including you."

It wasn't as if Tezuka asked for it. In fact, if Atobe asked for just his own party, like he was supposed to, Atobe would've had all the grandness he wanted, Tezuka would've had refused the invite and continued on with his work, and he and Atobe would probably have been much happier. But he didn't. So whose fault was it anyway?

But Tezuka bit his tongue, because that was always the best way to go when one was dealing with an overly spoiled brat who had large companies around the world as his playthings.

They were late enough as it is.

And they had to waste several more minutes because Tezuka had to physically get the driver out of the idling limosine and march him to the least conspicuous car that Atobe owned.

Honestly.

Tezuka spent the rest of the ride glaring pointedly at the window, while Atobe pretended not to notice while he preened. He was wearing some kind of perfume that irritated Tezuka's nose, and Tezuka knew that he was in for another flirting session between Atobe and the American PR who was engaged but didn't mind flirting with other people left and right.

... Maybe her Japanese partner would be on time, for once, and at least Tezuka would have someone to share the awkwardness with, but he doubted it. Said partner was probably going to join in and he'd have to stay and watch them all develop into a threesome.

Suffice to say, Tezuka was in a very, very bad mood when he finally stepped out of the car, without waiting for Atobe to finish preening (Atobe could handle himself, it wasn't as if he had to cross the street or any other activity that could provide opportunity for him to do something potentially stupid).

He yanked the door almost angrily, hearing the uneven chime of the bell, as if protesting the rough treatment.

And then...

And then, the bell chime, along with everything else, faded away into nothingness. Because suddenly, they did not matter anymore.

Even after more than ten years of separation, Tezuka could recognize that face anywhere. _Anywhere_. His pictures did him no justice, beause none of those could quite catch his radiance, and the gentle way his presence seemed ethereal, almost untouchable and unreachable by those he did not want to come close.

He'd grown, not by much, but he still had. His hair, too, had grown by a bit, because now, it brushed his shoulder in an almost teasing manner, but it was still the same honey color that was unique to no one else but him. He has become more lithe than he remembered, but it was still the same svelte body and familiar contours that Tezuka loved. Tezuka could probably pinpoint a million and one more little things different about him, because god knows how much he loved every bit of that being, so much so, that he had each curve committed to perfect memory.

But he was still the same Syusuke he loved, though he was a million and one (or more) ways different.

And _god_, he was beautiful.

Tezuka had forgotten that. He'd forgotten just what Syusuke's mere presence could do to him. He'd forgotten how much his heart would pound, how much his blood would rush, and how his limbs would ache to hold him, envelop him in the arms that he fit so perfectly against. His limbs ached now, with a fierce longing to reach out and pull Syusuke's body against his own, whisper the apologies that were long overdue, and tell him that he meant nothing of what he said that afternoon, when he knowingly broke Syusuke's heart.

And then he would tell Syusuke, he would tell him just how much he loved him.

But he couldn't anymore. If for no other reason than the girl - _Milly Ashford_ – who was straddling him, and leaning down to kiss him in the way that Tezuka had long since given up the right to do.

And Tezuka, with his heart sinking, had to watch Syusuke's eyes flutter, the way they did when _he_ kissed him, had to watch the blush making its way to his cheeks. He felt something pull at his heart, because once, and it was a very long time ago, those things had been exclusively _his_.

As if responding to his very thoughts, Milly Ashford's eyes fluttered up and pinned him with her gaze. It was hard and challenging, and he could feel more than see the smile making its way to her lips.

It was a mocking gaze, and a mocking smile, because she was telling Tezuka what he had known, but had refused to acknowledge all along.

_Syusuke is _mine_ now, Tezuka-san_, her eyes seemed to be saying, and whether or not she was right, it wouldn't matter.

Because Syusuke wasn't his. Not anymore.

And he wouldn't ever even know just how much it _killed_ Tezuka to finally acknowledge that.

* * *

Clary: THIS IS NOT A CROSSOVER.

Lia: Because if it is, you'll be breaking the oath that you made, yeah, we know.

Clary: Mean (I won't think about it until the third season comes out, if at all). Anyway~~ So, since we're on vacation, and since Lia (who is becoming a doctor) has her schedule full and won't have a life when she starts uni, we decided to post chapters like maybe twice a week~~~ Is that okay?

Lia: Actually, it's also because she wants to get on with her AU, but if it's the incentive to make her write, I'm not complaining. We think maybe Monday and Thursday, if that's alright with you guys.

Clary: And we'll warn ahead for non-postings on those days because of trips or visits or whatever~~ Okay? (Oh my gosh, I feel like such a good author~~~~)

Lia: Well, you shouldn't because you _aren't_.

Clary: BITCH, please. So please do review~~~ They are very, very important, and very, very good inspiration for me~~~

(PS: Yuuta's coming out next chapter, and we're on a dilemma on whether he should be a business guy or a pro-tennis player... We're leaning more towards business guy (less problems, that way). Whatcha guys think?)

Leave us with your thoughts and review, please, dearies~


	4. Verse 03

**OUR HEARTS GO OUT TO:**

Alatarielf: Ohmygod, that happened to us, too! And fanfiction wouldn't even accept our password, we had to changed it THREE TIMES for it to FINALLY get accepted! (Clary thought Lia was going to have an aneurysm, she was twitching so much.) And we love you so much, don't be sorry~ We love every bit of your reviews :) Also, we hope your tests went well, and if you're still having them, good luck~ -smothers you with good luck kisses- CODE GEASS IS AWESOME! (We're sorry for the major spoiler, though, Clary is feeling really bad about that. But we hope you enjoy it as much as we did :))

fujiyuki: Here's more! Yey~ We'll try our best for you, ne? The rest of everything else is still secret –winkwink- Milly and Fuji as well as the end of Fuji and Tezuka will be explained, but we can't tell you for now. We're sorry. But enjoy this chapter~

lemon-and-chai: Yes, Tezuka IS an idiot, isn't he? Ah, but Fuji loves that idiot~ Haha :) Everything else will be sort-of secret for now~ Also. Lia loves you. Because you and her had almost the same (with almost the exact same wording, it's scary) arguments about why Yuuta should be a businessman. Yes. She was carrying on this smug air while we read your review, like, "_I told you so_." So she loves you very much now. Clary loves you, too, but Lia's just... aahh... asjkl; :D We're sorry we're weird.

:)

Clary: This chapter... I can't even talk about.

Lia: Yes, me neither.

...

So, just please do enjoy, we guess... :)

* * *

Tezuka spent the rest of the time they were in the restaurant trying to pretend he was looking at something other than Milly Ashford straddling Fuji.

And that wasn't even the worst part.

The worst part was that Fuji looked completely and utterly comfortable with a girl sitting on his lap. No, even worse was that he refused to even _look_ at Tezuka. He just kept his hands around the girl, his face buried against the crook of her neck and shoulder, occasionally murmuring things Tezuka really couldn't hear even though he tried.

It took everything in Tezuka to pretend he was okay, when all he wanted to do was rip the girl off of Fuji's lap and take his lips, letting him know just how much Tezuka still loved him. Tezuka wanted to fold Fuji in his arms, he wanted to feel Fuji's heartbeat against his, he wanted to see Fuji's smile, and Fuji's warm eyes, and know _for sure_ that Fuji loved him, too.

But Tezuka didn't do any of those things. Instead, he sat quietly in his chair, curled his hands into painful fists and pretended that he was looking at something other than Milly Ashford straddling Fuji.

Because more than ten years ago, when Fuji Yuuta had barged into his home and demanded that he love the younger boy's aniki the way he was meant to be loved, telling Tezuka to-

Because more than ten years ago, Tezuka realized just how much Fuji had loved him, but Tezuka had-

Because more than ten years ago... _"I _love _you... Kunimitsu, please_..._"_

Tezuka's fists tightened in his lap.

More than ten years ago, he had willingly broke Fuji's heart. Had stood by, and smiled while the light had died out from Fuji's eyes.

And had felt his own heart breaking along with his beloved's.

He was cut off from his musings when Fuji rose from the table and stalked to the restroom. Milly Ashford, for her part, was watching Fuji with a small little smirk as she settled back against her chair, folding her arms against her chest self-assuredly. Atobe wasn't even trying to hide his smug smile.

And because he was stupid and idiotic with everything about Fuji, he pushed his chair back, and followed him to the restroom, distinctly feeling two sets of eyes, one disapproving and one smug, on his back.

Standing outside the door, Tezuka, experiencing something as close to panic as he had ever come in his life, tried to ask himself what the hell he had been thinking. His hand was on the doorknob, but it didn't seemed inclined in any way to twist it and push. And of _course_ it wouldn't.

Because no matter how painful it was to be sitting across the table from the person he still loved, it would be ten times more painful to be in the same small space, knowing he'd have to avoid any kind of contact, because if he didn't he would lose his resolve, and he'd be doing all the things that were taboo between two people who had broken up.

So it was so, _so_ much better for him to return _right now_, before it was two late, go back to the table and watch Atobe flirt with Milly Ashford who, more likely than not, would become Fuji's wife.

Yes, it was so much smarter to just turn back _right now_.

It was so much smarter-

His hand turned the doorknob and he took the precious few steps that would lead him towards being in the same small space as Fuji.

The door closed with a deafening _click_. It sounded more like the drop of a guillotine.

Fuji, who looked even more beautiful up close, had his face dripping with water. He was studiously ignoring Tezuka, his hands gripping the sink as he stared at his reflecton in the mirror, the water still running from the tap.

Tezuka felt the longing, the _pull_, all over again.

His hands twitched at his sides, and he shoved them down his pockets so they don't go wandering to places they don't have any right to touch anymore. "Hi," he said intelligently, a blush rising in his cheeks as he took note of his stupidity.

Fuji jumped slightly, his eyes snapping fully open as he turned to look at Tezuka. There was something extremely vulnerable in his eyes, something that had the longing in Tezuka's heart grow a hundredfold.

And before he realized what he was doing, he was stepping forward, his arms moving to reach out to Fuji and his broken eyes, the longing peaking into a desperation that robbed Tezuka of his very breath.

But Fuji had backed away, his eyes slamming close, his mask snapping back in place, and Tezuka was left mid-stride, trying to improvise on what he was supposed to do.

"Hi," Fuji replied in an even voice, with faux cheer, thrusting his hands, once again, underneath the water's flow.

Tezuka, trying to pretend he hadn't just tried to... well, _do something_, marched towards the other sink, and washed his own clean hands.

For a long moment, the only sound in the room was that of running water, and Tezuka's own loud, hammering heartbeat.

"Maa... Buchou has changed," Fuji said lightheartedly, breaking the silence.

"Changed?" Tezuka echoed, looking at his own stoic face staring back at him from the mirror. He was painfully aware of how Fuji had neglected to address him by anything other than his old title, as if they had been nothing more than captain and club member. As if Fuji hadn't loved Tezuka, as if Tezuka hadn't loved him back.

But then again, he reminded himself, he probably deserved that.

But Fuji only laughed, and Tezuka couldn't decipher whether or not the laugh was false. It had a strange ring to it, but Tezuka really couldn't identify that, either. And Tezuka had to suppress a sigh, because that was how bad his relationship with Fuji had gotten.

A long time ago, Tezuka could have communicated with him from all the way across the room, and Tezuka would've understood every single gesture. Now he couldn't even tell if a laugh was fake.

"Well," Fuji said, still lighthearted as he turned the tap off. "Happy birthday in advance..."

He trailed off, and Tezuka turned to look at him inquiringly, but he was only met with Fuji's firm, smiling mask. The smile twitched at the corners, before Fuji repeated, "Happy birthday in advance, Tezuka."

And if Tezuka had known where to be looking, he would've seen Fuji's hands clenched into trembling fists at his back, and he would've known just how much it had cost Fuji to say it and smile.

Tezuka, unfortunately, was too busy staring at Fuji's face. "Ah," he replied faintly.

Fuji's smile, if anything, widened even more. "When my partner told me about an event in Japan," he continued, conversationally. "I never thought it was going to be this. What were the chances, do you think?" He turned away again, dropping his head a bit, fingers dancing across the sink. "It really is... a small world."

_My partner_, he said. What did that _mean_? Did that mean that Milly Ashford was really merely just his co-worker who happened to be engaged, and who happened to like flirting (and making out) with people other than her fiance? Because, if she _was_ his future wife, then he would have said _my fiancee_, right? He wouldn't have said _my partner_, right? He wouldn't be smiling here exchanging pleasantries with his _ex-boyfriend_, of all people, while his future wife was outside, sharing a table with Atobe, the biggest womanizer of the century, _right_?

What were the chances?

"Syu- Fuji..." How do you say it? How do ask your ex-boyfriend if the woman who he had been making out with a mere few minutes ago, if the woman who had been sitting on his lap, was the woman he wanted to marry? How do you say, _why not me? _How do you make him understand just how _hurt_ you are that he was going to swear himself to someone other than you?

Fuji's head tilted to the side, humming encouragingly. "Yes, Tezuka?"

"Fuji," Tezuka looked away. "Is she..." _Your fiance? Is she the one in your heart now? Have you completely forgotten about me?_

_Am I being replaced?_

"Is who what, Tezuka?"

And Tezuka sighed, knowing he had lost the nerve to do it, if he had any nerve at all, in the first place. "Nothing."

"Oh." Fuji blinked. "Oh... Okay then," he said, finally, brushing past Tezuka, moving to get out of the room. "I'll just... I'll take my leave first."

_("I'll just go then, buchou.")_

Tezuka felt it, Fuji was slipping away. About ten years ago, he let him. And he was about to watch it happen again.

Before he could think about it, he blurted out, "I'll see you, Fuji."

Fuji stiffened once again, pausing in the act of reaching for the doorknob. Tezuka fought the urge to kick himself. That was probably the most presumptuous thing he had said in his entire life. What other purpose did Fuji have here, really? Tezuka was just _his client_. He wouldn't even have come back here, if it wasn't for his job. Fuji didn't _need_ to _see_ Tezuka, he had a fiancee waiting outside that door for him. And even in the off-chance that she _wasn't_ his fiancee, he probably had a lover waiting for him back in America.

He had a life. And it didn't include Tezuka.

Not anymore. A long time ago, it might have, until Tezuka had broken his heart for his own good. But whatever Tezuka's reasons may have been, the single truth remained that during that afternoon in the clubroom, he had fed Fuji the words that were needed to keep him away, and make him forget.

And he was successful, wasn't he? If he wasn't, Fuji would not have come back to Japan with a fiancee. If he wasn't, Fuji wouldn't be _here_ at all.

He should be happy. He had told himself he could. He had told himself that many times, _every _single damn night he lay in bed, awake, remembering everything that he ought not to anymore. But for some reason or another beyond his understanding, the burn of tears was painful behind his eyelids.

"Right," Fuji replied, his voice as stiff as his body. "Right. I'll... See you, Tezuka." And he left, seeming, for all the world, as if he couldn't get away fast enough.

Tezuka was glad, because then, Fuji didn't have to see him slam his fist against the wall in his frustration.

* * *

**THE MELODY OF TWO HEARTS**

**Verse 03**

_**I hope and I pray you'll be with me someday**_

* * *

Tezuka didn't love him.

He knew that. Tezuka had made it very clear. Tezuka only needed him for a while, but when he had outlived his usefulness, Tezuka had to throw him away.

And why wouldn't he?

He had much better things waiting for him. He was the captain of the tennis team that had won the Nationals, he was at the top of their year, he had many brilliant prospects lining up for him, begging at his feet for him to take them.

Someone like Fuji would only be a burden. A risk. Because no matter what happened, Fuji wouldn't be turning into a girl anytime in the near future, and Fuji didn't even want to know how many prospects would be taken away from Tezuka were they made aware of his preference.

And would Tezuka risk it? Risk ruining all those brilliant prospects, risk ruining the respect he had gained, risk ruining his image and reputation for someone _he did not even love_?

Of course, he had to let Fuji go. Fuji would have only been a burden.

He said it himself. _"I have more important things to consider."_

Fuji wasn't important. He was just... someone to play with.

He knew that. He _knew_ that. He'd spent the last few years of his life knowing it, living in the reality that the one person he had loved the most, the one person he had given his whole heart to only saw him as a mere toy.

Or a piece in the boardgame. Tezuka had wanted to win the Nationals and he did what he had to do. He always did. (It was one of the many things Fuji loved about him.)

It was just that simple.

So why, why, _why_ did he have to act like... like _that_... like Fuji was suddenly important once again? Why did he look at Fuji like he did when Fuji was still useful, and he had to get on with his act so Fuji would continue to be useful?

Why did he have to look like _he still loved him_?

"_I'll see you, Fuji."_

But he never did! Tezuka never _saw_ anything, just Fuji's abilities that he had needed to win the Nationals. Fuji had bared his entire heart and soul to Tezuka but Tezuka didn't see! Tezuka _refused_ to look, because it wasn't what he needed.

Not from Fuji, anyway.

Tezuka didn't see. Tezuka didn't have time to acknowledge his existence, Tezuka only had the time to acknowledge his abilities as a tennis player.

But that was all.

_That was all_.

He had to stomp on the stupid hope that was, once again, starting to burn in his heart before it got worse and he would start believing, as he had many times before, that it had all been a misunderstanding and Tezuka would come back.

He had to stop hoping before he would start think that maybe, just maybe, Tezuka had lied, and maybe, just maybe, Tezuka really _did_ love him.

He wasn't going to be a naive fourteen-year-old boy anymore. And he was going to kill the hope before it got to him and he got hurt.

Again.

"Syusuke."

He looked up from where he was smiling at the road to where Milly was looking at him with her lips pressed together. She had been looking at him like that ever since he scurried away from the restroom, practically yanked her into his lap, buried his face into her hair and kept it there for the rest of the entire meeting.

He didn't care about etiquette. He couldn't look at Tezuka and keep his face straight. He was a genius, and he was good at many things but _that_... even through all his practice, even through surviving being stuck with him in the small restroom... that was just asking too much.

Not after, _"I'll see you, Fuji."_ Not after the wild thumping of his heart. Not after the hope that was bubbling in Fuji's soul, telling him things he really didn't want to think.

The minute Milly had dragged him out of the shop after (thankfully) declining a ride from Atobe was not a minute too soon. Any more of Tezuka, and the knowledge that Tezuka was _looking_, and the pressure of Tezuka's stare, and _"I'll see you, Fuji,"_ anymore of any of those, or the combination of all four and Fuji would have had walked out himself.

_Tezuka was supposed to hate me_. He wasn't supposed to _care_ that Milly was in his lap, that Milly had been kissing him, that Fuji was back in Japan, that Fuji was still hurting even though they had ended more than ten years ago. He wasn't supposed to say _hi_, of all things, and make conversation and say, _"I'll see you, Fuji,"_ as if he cared, when he _didn't_.

Tezuka had said he didn't love Fuji. Fuji had believed him, there wasn't any legitimate evidence pointing out otherwise. So he had _no business_ fanning the flames of hope Fuji pretended did not exist, but nurtured anyway. _No business at all_.

He couldn't stand it.

"Syusuke," Milly called again, though she made no move to inch closer to him from her position in the park bench. "Are you..."

Syusuke met her eyes, and she held his gaze full-on for a moment, before she sighed, and tilted her head back to look at the sky.

"What do you think of blue?" she asked, in the same cheery voice she used when working.

Fuji blinked. Huh? "Blue?"

"Yeah." She turned her head, grinned and threw him a wink. "For the wedding. I think blue sounds nice."

...She was trying to cheer him up. Or, at least, trying to divert the subject away from the disaster that was his first meeting with Tezuka after _many, many_ years so he'd lighten up. It was just like her.

The smile he gave the road seemed more genuine now. "It does, doesn't it?" He looked back up and returned her grin with equal fervor. "It'd clash with Shirley's hair, though."

Milly pretended to think about it. Then, she shrugged, and her smile grew more mischievous. "Oh well," she said flippantly. "It's not like it's _her_ wedding. I'm the only one who's supposed to look pretty."

She brought a finger up to trace the sides of his face. Her hands were a little cold, but familiar, and he smiled fondly as her finger landed against his lips.

"Can't have the eyes of my groom stray to unimportant people."

The corner of his mouth twitched a little bit. "Believe me," he declared against her finger. "He wouldn't dare."

"'Course not, if he knows what's good for him," Milly replied, taking her finger away.

"Indeed," Fuji murmured, sliding closer until their shoulders brushed, the tension in his body seeming to ease.

Milly was smiling at the sky again. "I'm thinking of a June wedding," she informed him. "What do you think of a June wedding?"

"_Ne, Tezuka, if we ever get married, let's get married during winter."_

_Tezuka glanced at him from where he was arranging his books in his desk. He continued toying with Tezuka's bedsheets, leaning his head against his propped-up hand, giving Tezuka a conspiratorial smile._

"_Winter... Why winter?"_

_He let out a little laugh. Figures that was the first thing he'd ask. Well, he can't help it, he guessed. He fell in love with _Tezuka_, after all._

"_Saa, I like winter," he told his love, his smile widening and taking on a teasing edge. "And so that it'll be so cold, we'll have no choice but to share our body heat the only way we know how, ne?"_

_And of course, all the prude-Tezuka moments that resulted from that comment was worth watching Tezuka sputter and blush._

"Syusuke?"

Fuji's eyes snapped open, as he mentally shook himself off of such thoughts. Memories like that... would do him no good.

No good at all.

He forced a smile, and turned to face Milly. "June sounds lovely."

./.

Tezuka had been quiet throughout the whole ride back to the company.

Normally, Atobe Keigo wouldn't have minded, because he had more important things to think about, and Tezuka was always sulking about one thing or another that he didn't _appreciate_ about ore-sama's actions. Honestly, Atobe never got what the point was. He should consider himself lucky Atobe did them so he could sulk about not appreciating them.

Very few people had ever gone so far as to see him do things so they could appreciate it.

Except for the people he got in his bed. Those didn't count.

But this was different. Tezuka, for lack of any other proper or appropriate word, looked like a lovesick lapdog.

Ugh. So _now_ he had to make conversation?

"Fuji... seemed very close with that woman," he said, watching Tezuka's reaction from the corner of his eye.

He stiffened in his seat and glared even more fiercely at the window.

"I hadn't noticed," he replied, his voice without emotion.

Atobe held back a snort. Right. As if he hadn't been sitting stiffly, clenching his fists in the restaurant. As if he hadn't followed Fuji to the restroom. As if Fuji hadn't come out looking like a blushing virgin and he hadn't come out looking as if he had swallowed something sour.

Hadn't noticed, indeed.

"You noticed," he told Tezuka, full-on looking at him now. Why can't they both just kiss and make up and get on with their lives already so Atobe didn't have to play matchmaker? "And I noticed you noticing."

Tezuka only grunted. The bastard.

Atobe was _trying_ to help him here! Ugh. He was never going to help anyone ever again, not if they going to act like ungrateful little prudes, as if it didn't cost Atobe anything to be helping them.

They should be thankful he was giving them the time of day, damnit.

"And? What happened in the restroom?" he asked snidely. "Had sex, did you?"

Tezuka shot him a look that was half-furious, half-scandalized. "He's _engaged_," Tezuka told him. Finally, a reaction. "I don't have affairs."

As an afterthought, Tezuka added, "Unlike you."

Well, wasn't that a sweet compliment?

Even though, technically, since Atobe was unattached, _he_ didn't have affairs. The people who slept with him (or well, some of them) did. And if they slept with him knowing they were having an affair, wasn't that _their_ problem?

Atobe didn't _ask_ for them to sleep with him.

There were plenty others lining up outside his door.

"He's engaged?" he repeated. "He told you that?"

At that, Tezuka resumed the lovesick lapdog face, and started glaring at the window once again. "He didn't have to."

Atobe smirked. "Did he? Maybe he and Milly Ashford were having an _affair_?"

"Either way," Tezuka responded. "It doesn't concern me."

Liar. It obviously concerned him when he acted like that. "Did you _ask_?"

"If he thought I needed to know, he would have told me," Tezuka said firmly, obviously signalling the end of the conversation.

Atobe resisted the urge to slam his palm against his head in exasperation. Lovesick lovebirds. Their stupidity was just... he didn't even have a word for it! Obviously they can't be left alone by themselves, because if they were, they'd only probably end up confessing their obvious love for each other when they were old and decrepit.

Maybe he should do something?

./.

_Don't worry, Yuuta. I'm fine_, his ass.

As if.

Didn't he know by now that _Don't worry, Yuuta. I'm fine_, automatically translated itself to _I'm about to do something stupid that would land me in a hospital, so be prepared, Yuuta_, in his own personal vocabulary?

Fuji Yuuta wasn't stupid. His aniki was. Actually, his aniki and nee-san were. He didn't know, maybe it was because of some splice of genes, or something, but he somehow ended up to be the one with the most brains in his family, everyone else just always seemed to end up acting stupid. Or maybe he didn't. Maybe everyone else, unlike Yuuta, just didn't _use_ them.

His aniki, especially. But Yumiko-nee-san was a close second. Honestly, between his aniki and his nee-san, Yuuta didn't know who would kill him first.

And he was supposed to be _their_ younger brother.

Stupid, stubborn people.

He had a proposal he had to review waiting on his desk, as well as a green post-it note that told him that _Sir, your mother has been calling you for the past few days and wants to know when she can see her 'cute' son's face again. –heart-_. He didn't know what the heart was for.

Maybe he should start looking for another secretary.

But that wasn't the point. The point was that he couldn't concentrate on anything because his aniki was about to do something stupid that would land him in a hospital (again, and Yuuta has had _enough_ of hospitals, the last time had been bad enough).

He angrily punched the numbers of his aniki's office, determined to not hang up until he found out what the problem was _this_ time. Granted, there hadn't been a problem in about ten or so years, but he had to be sure. He _really_ didn't want to see the inside of another hospital, not for the rest of his damn life.

"Hi! Syusuke's office!" came a cheerful, familiar voice. "This is Shirley, can I help you?"

Oh. "Hi, Shirley," he said mildly, because no matter how annoyed he was, there was no way he was going to drag other people down with him. Besides, he liked Shirley. She was the kind of girl that went out of her way to make people feel comfortable, and she was nice. Overly nice, in fact, but that was beside the point. "I was wondering if I could speak to my brother."

There was a prolonged silence where all Yuuta could hear was the usual bustle of the agency.

"Um, Yuuta?" Shirley finally said, almost hesitantly. "Didn't Syusuke tell you?"

Okay. That was not good. Things his aniki didn't tell him was almost always not good. Oh god, he really _was_ going to land himself in a hospital, wasn't he? Goddamnit. Can't he properly take care of himself without Yuuta having to remind him to watch where he's going every once in a while?

He's twenty-eight, for fuck's sake!

"What?" he said, clutching the phone hard. "What did he do this time?"

Shirley laughed, because she didn't know any better. "Well, it's nothing drastic," she said, good humor restored. "He's with Milly. They're arranging an event in Japan."

His heart dropped to his stomach. "He's in _Japan_?" he demanded, almost angrily.

"Yeah..." Shirley replied, obviously taking note of the change in his tone. "I thought he told you." She paused. "Yuuta, is something wrong?"

Yuuta caught himself before he could snarl _yes_ to the receiver. "No, I'm just..." _furious_ "...surprised."

_Breathe through your mouth, Yuuta_, he told himself. _Calm down_. Shirley had nothing to do with this, Shirley didn't know. It would be no use worrying her, he knew she'd only worry herself half to death. "He didn't tell me."

"Oh." Shirley laughed again. "Well, he's a big boy, Yuuta, I'm sure he can take care of himself."

_Yeah, right_. Yuuta tried not to snort. "Yeah," he said. "I'm sure."

The phone call ended soon after that.

What the _fuck_ was he thinking, having an event in Japan, and not telling Yuuta? Was he stupid? Was he really _that_ stupid? What, he was just going to go, come home and fall back into depression, _I'm sorry Yuuta, I couldn't help it_?

That was it?

What if he died? What _was_ he going to tell Yuuta if he somehow got worse, because he was too stupid to realize he _might_? What _was_ he going to tell Yuuta if Yuuta had to wait outside his hospital room again, anxious and worried, trying to convince himself his aniki wasn't going to die?

He'd all but _given up_ last time!

_Don't worry, Yuuta. I'm fine_?

Damn it!

The least he could have done was tell Yuuta. Of course, he had the time to tell Yumiko, because if he didn't Yumiko would be knocking down his door by now. Oh, but did he have time to tell _Yuuta_? Obviously not.

Was it because Yumiko still sympathized with _that bastard_, was that it?

Well, of course, she would. _She_ wasn't the one who had to practically force food down Syusuke's throat because Syusuke refused to eat. _She_ wasn't the one who passed by Syusuke's door every night and pretended not to hear him cry. _She_ wasn't the one who had to wake up in the middle of the night, because Syusuke was screaming because of a nightmare, yet again. _She _wasn't the one who had to kill every desire to go inside and comfort Syusuke, because he would just pretend he didn't need it. _She_ wasn't the one who had to get out of bed, and sit outside the closed door to wait until the screaming and the whimpers subsided, who had to sigh and lay awake the rest of the night because Syusuke's pain was so _great_, it filled up the entire house, constricted his heart.

_She_ wasn't the one who had to live with an empty shell. _She_ wasn't the one who had to pretend she didn't notice.

Yuuta had to live with those things.

Moreover, Yuuta had been the one who had (wrongly) _trusted_ Tezuka. He had been the one who was _so sure_, _so sure_ that when Tezuka was pushed off the cliff, he would land on his feet and be there to catch Syusuke when he fell.

But, when Syusuke _did_ fall, Tezuka stepped aside, and smiled as he watched Yuuta's brother break. And then he walked away, leaving Yuuta to try and help his brother pick up the pieces.

Of course, Yuuta hated Tezuka.

Why _wouldn't_ he?

He was the reason Syusuke had wanted to die.

He punched the button the would connect him to his secretary. "Cancel all my appointments," he growled, yanking his suit jacket from the back of his chair. "And get me a flight to Tokyo."

If Tezuka wanted to kill his brother, he could very well try.

But Yuuta wasn't going to sit back and watch his brother die.

Yuuta would damn well make sure _that bastard_ died first.

* * *

Clary: This is one of the most painful things I have ever done in my whole entire life~~ Waaahhh~~~ Ex-lover drama is PAINFUL~~~~~

Lia: -sigh- I have to live with THIS. Can you guys believe it?

Clary: You don't have to be so mean, Lia. YOU had to sit and take the pain with me, too! –accusing glare-

Lia: But am I complaining about it?

Clary: You... You BITCH. Hmmpphh. –turns to readers- ANYWAY. Next one comes Thursday, I think... I have to enroll to university. AND NOOOO~~ I won't have a life, either, coz my mom found out I'm okay to take honors for my course, and she's making me take it~~ No~~ Judging from Lia, who already got enrolled, and who's also taking the honors course for her pre-med credits, I WON'T HAVE AN UNI LIFE! No~~~~~~~~ -the despair-

Lia: For the thousandth time, just tell her you don't want to.

Clary: She's PAYING my tuition, Lia. I can't very well go to college without TUITION.

Lia: -sigh- Please excuse us while we have this conversation. Again. For the thousandth time. Clary can't calm down, because she says she wants a life. I can't seem to convince her she HAS one, for some reason... She goes to parties almost every night. But obviously, that's NOT living. (/sarcasm)

Clary: We're on VACATION. I should party oftener~~~~~!

Lia: That's not a word.

Clary: Sure it is. OFTENER, OFTENER, OFTENER.

Reviews are good for an author's (especially an author like Clary) soul~~ So do review please~~


	5. Verse 04

**OUR HEARTS GO OUT TO:**

Alatarielf: Is it such a bad thing that we are happy that you're sad because that means no matter how utterly normal and amateur our skills are, they work? Yes? We're SORRY~~~ -begs for forgiveness- But ice cream is awesome! CONGRATULATIONS on finishing the tests~ We're so happy for you! –LOVE-

fujiyuki: We love Yuuta, too~ Yey~ As for Tezuka, he has been kidnapped by Clary until further notice ;)

lemon-and-chai: Oh my, thank you SO MUCH :) We're so happy! –swoon- Yes, we blame Tezuka, too, he's an idiot –bangs Tezukamuse on head- Wahaha~ But our lips are sealed for everything else ;)

Trees of leaves: Thanks so much~ Well, crudely speaking (since there were a lot of conditions), the bet has something to do about taking an often-used plotline and making it work for us. Yes. Something like that, anyway :) Your support is helping us win it~~ Lia says thank you and we hope you do well in your tests!

zAza. eL. mikA: Aw, we hope your laptop gets fixed! That happened to us, too, and it's a total... bitch. Yes. Shocked Tezuka is –hearts- Wahaha~ We're leaving that up to your imagination. We love Milly, too~~

Eru no Tsubasa: Waa~~~ Thank you~ We're so happy~ -cries- We hope we don't disappoint in this chapter :)

:)

Clary: There is a (TOTAL FAIL) foreshadowing in this chapter, except you can't even TELL, because it's a TOTAL FAIL. Like Lia jabbed her finger at it and went, "You're attempting a foreshadowing with this, aren't you?" Keyword: ATTEMPT, because, as I said, IT IS A TOTAL FAILURE. I'm such a bad writer~~~~~~~~~~~

Lia: -sigh- I will not comment. I just have to warn you guys, though, this chapter might be a bit... sappy for some of you. (I'm literally DRIPPING with sap, but... well, I guess it's okay.)

Clary: Awee, Lia, you're MY FRIEND~~~~~ I wuves you~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Please enjoy~

* * *

Fuji woke up tangling with his sheets before he fell off the side of his bed with an ungraceful _thump_.

He didn't bother to get up from his position on the floor. It wasn't terribly comfortable, he _did _just fall off of his bed, and he suspected he'd be choked to death if he so much as moved the wrong way, but he was too busy shivering over a nightmare he didn't even remember clearly anymore.

All he knew was that it involved a scalpel, and surgeon Tezuka Kunimitsu stabbing at his heart. Or trying to pull it out. Or carving a hole the size of a tennis ball on it. Or something. Maybe he was even doing all three. Whatever it was he was doing, it _hurt_. And Tezuka, like he had on that fateful afternoon, was smiling cruelly, enjoying himself immensely.

If he wasn't so brokenhearted, it might have been funny.

As it was, he just wanted to lie down, and... act brokenhearted, he supposed. It had been years since he had his last nightmare, he wasn't quite sure what to do.

But then again, he thought with a wry smile, it had been years since he'd last seen (talked to, been with, reminded how much he was still very in love with) Tezuka.

He was so stupid. So very, very stupid.

He should never have come. He should never have went back, should never have agreed to Milly, when the slightest chance that they would meet again had presented itself. He should have just backed away, asked for someone else, _anyone_ else, to come with Milly because then... because then...

Because then, maybe he could have continued living his happy life. Maybe he could still last through the night without yet another Tezuka-induced dream. Maybe he could have avoided asking Milly to do something he had no right to ask her to do, and have avoided hurting anyone else that would be involved.

Maybe he could still have pretended he was okay. That he had moved on. That he had forgotten just how much he had loved Tezuka. How much he still did. How much he still ached for Tezuka's touch every night, how much he longed to hear his voice, how much he wanted to lose himself in Tezuka's eyes and Tezuka's arms, and just... just be with Tezuka.

Even though... Even though...

He sighed. Even though Tezuka had only been using him.

He sighed again. And when that hadn't been enough, he took another deep breath...

...And smelled something burning.

It took him less than a minute to struggle out of the sheets, stumble around his room, pull on clothes, and run into the en suite kitchen.

Technically, this was his hotel room so technically, he was the only one who was supposed to be allowed inside. Technically. But, and it shouldn't have surprised him anymore, Milly never cared for technicalities.

And Fuji wouldn't have minded, except that she was coming dangerously too close to burning down the kitchen.

He leaned against the doorway, feeling a smile coming on. That's right. This was what he had now. He should just forget.

He'd be a whole lot better off.

He was the one, after all, who had come up with the brilliant theory that if he lied to himself long enough, the lies would eventually become the truth. It had never failed him before, and it sure as hell wouldn't fail him now.

It _wouldn't_.

"That smells _amazing_," he teased, adding extra emphasis to _amazing_. "What is it?"

Milly, obviously, did not appreciate his attempts at euphemism. "Food," she snapped, slamming the coffee pot into the counter.

Fuji's smile widened. They had very different definitions of the word food, and though Fuji's tastes were eccentric, he still held a definition that was more likely to coincide with the common masses. Milly, on the other hand, took the term 'food' quite loosely. She couldn't cook (well, she could, but barely), but he can, and Fuji was pretty sure that if he hadn't come along, she could never have survived living alone in America with her supermodel figure.

Besides, it wasn't as if he hadn't had practice.

"_Mitsu, cooking generally doesn't mean you just turn on the stove, put a pot over it and boil something."_ And he would sigh and survey the damage with a critical eye. _"Okay. What is that supposed to be _this_ time?"_

He shook his head. He'd never had trouble keeping these images out of his head before, just like he'd never had trouble having peaceful, non-Tezuka dreams, but now that they were here... He shook his head again. He _wasn't_ going there.

He forced his face into a smile.

"Here, I'll finish for you," he told her, reaching out to take the pot from her hands before it realized it was being sourly mistreated and did something drastic.

She looked more mischievous than relieved. "Excellent," she said, unlacing her apron, a frilly, lacy and overbearingly pink monstrosity, and shoving it in his face.

"Milly, I-"

"Need help putting it on, _dear_?" she questioned, her voice overly sweet.

He sighed and pulled the apron away from his face. "No pictures," he told her firmly, before he stomped around and busied himself with damage control.

She pouted, putting away her camera belligerently. "You're no fun," she declared and made herself comfortable in the couch.

He smiled at her fondly.

The breakfast scene was a familiar one, something that happened every single day even when they lived in America. They lived right next to each other, anyway, had duplicates of each other's keys, and Fuji was as used to Milly barging in at random moments as Milly was to Fuji coming in the morning and cooking (and inevitably eating) breakfast for (with) her. They never yelled at each other for it. And they probably never would.

Besides, after the wedding, everything would be different.

The lapsed into a comfortable silence, before he finally laid a plate on the table in front of her. She was still pouting, her arms crossed on her chest, looking like a young, ten-year-old girl throwing a tantrum.

He grinned at her from across the table. "Eat up," he encouraged, pushing the plate towards her. "They're all your favorite breakfast choices."

As if she couldn't help it, her gaze flickered down at her plate, before she looked away, and tried to maintain the ten-year-old-temper-tantrum face. But her gaze flickered down again, and Syusuke could see the smile that she was bravely trying to hold back.

"Fine," she sniffed, meeting his eyes for a brief second. "But only because I'm hungry."

"Of course," he said, sipping his coffee.

When she didn't move to eat, he raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"You know," she said, eyeing him from head to toe assessingly, taking in the frilly apron he realized he still hadn't removed. "You'd make a good wife."

He blinked. He was pretty sure he'd heard her correctly. A good _wife_.

"_Say, Mitsu, don't you think I'd look good as your wife?"_

And before he could stop himself, he burst out laughing, because he knew it was either that or cry his eyes out.

And he really didn't want to do that in front of Milly, during breakfast, preparing for another day where he had to suffer through seeing Tezuka and being with Tezuka, knowing Tezuka really didn't care where he was or who he was with because Tezuka's words that afternoon when Fuji's world stopped and razed itself to the ground until nothing but ashes were left behind swirled around his mind, telling him over and over that he was nothing in Tezuka's world.

Just ash.

Probably something even more inconsequential than that.

Milly mock-pouted for a while, before she, too, was laughing and the sound of their laughter filled the air until tears leaked out of Fuji's eyes.

He shook his head and shuffled back to the kitchen under the pretense of getting more coffee, his body still wracked with laughter.

He gazed at his reflection at the coffee pot, watching the tears fall, before wiping them all away almost furiously, knowing, more than anyone, that they were not happy tears.

* * *

**THE MELODY OF TWO HEARTS**

**Verse 04**

_**I know for sure that we were meant to fall in love**_

* * *

_Tezuka Kunimitsu had always thought himself to be a practical, rational, realistic sort of guy. It wasn't particularly surprising, considering his family and how they have brought him up._

_However, unlike many practical, rational and realistic guys, Tezuka believed that true love existed. _

_It would be hard not to. Anyone who shared the same room with his parents (and his grandparents, before his grandmother passed on, and maybe even after) would _know_ for sure. _

_And Tezuka _lived _with them. _

_The funny part was, for all their rationality, they all told him it was love at first sight. His grandfather, for example, met his grandmother on the chance seating in the only class they shared at university. _

_His father... Well, his father was even worse. He fell in love with Tezuka's mother while she was crossing the street._

_It happened in an instant, they said. And they were all still happily married and very much in love._

_So Tezuka knew true love existed, but the rational part of his mind also knew, that if he were ever to fall in love, it would be different._

_After all, what were the chances that what happened to his elders would happen to him?_

_Zero._

_Or, at least that's what Tezuka believed, and he faithfully clung on that belief even on the day he met Fuji._

_It didn't happen in an instant. Fuji didn't sit by him in class, nor was Fuji crossing the street. Fuji was in the same club. A genius but quiet first year who was hiding the lion that he really was behind a gentle, smiling mask. In every club meeting, Tezuka was aware of him, and his presence. There was always something different in the air, whenever Fuji was around. Something... that called to Tezuka._

_Tezuka told himself it was because he was interested in the lion that hid behind that mask._

_And if his gaze was almost always inevitably drawn to the smaller boy, then it was because Tezuka didn't want to miss it, if he decided to finally show his true self._

_It wasn't love. It was just tennis._

_At least, that was what he told himself._

_And then..._

_And then..._

"_Tezuka-kun, you're really left-handed, aren't you?"_

_Tezuka really couldn't tell anyone else about the details of that afternoon, if he tried. He, himself could clearly remember only very little. _

_He remembered asking how he knew, how even Ryuzaki-sensei shouldn't know. He remembered Fuji telling him, in no uncertain terms, that he knew Tezuka was good, would've won easily if he used his left hand. _

_He remembered how Fuji smiled. _

"_Let's go home now," he said. And then, there was the glimmer of sapphires beneath the lid of his eyes. It was only a glimmer, Tezuka didn't even meet his eyes fully, but... something passed between them that day, something... important._

_It wasn't love at first sight. Of course not. Tezuka had told himself the chances of that were zero, and it wasn't even the first time they had met. _

_It was... a recognition, a knowledge that there was something, would be something, they would both share._

_And then, that dreadful match happened. He didn't know why, but Tezuka had wanted that match so badly. He reasoned with himself, and said that he wanted to see Fuji's true self, he wanted to be on the other side of the net when Fuji finally stopped pretending. Maybe it _was_ true, Tezuka didn't know, but it wasn't everything. _

_Tezuka knew exactly why he came that afternoon, why even though his arm was screaming, he played that match with Fuji. _

_Why, even as Fuji stalked towards him looking like an avenging angel, he could not bring himself to regret anything._

_It was the very first time Tezuka saw Fuji angry, and despite being physically smaller, and weaker than Tezuka, he had held the front of his shirt and shook angrily, demanding answers Tezuka never even had the chance to give._

_It had been a very bad hold, wrongly placed and done out of anger. Tezuka, who had been learning judo ever since he learned how to walk, could have gotten out of it, and very easily. But... But... There was something about the potent rage, something about the intensity of his hold that had kept Tezuka in place._

"_This isn't what I wanted!"_

_And it wasn't what Tezuka wanted, either. But Tezuka couldn't speak, because Fuji had shook him again, had bent his head down and trembled with the force of his anger._

_He had been... very beautiful._

_It was the first time Tezuka had a glimpse of the soul behind the mask and it was so very, very, exquisitely... _beautiful_._

"_Someday, when your arms heals completely, let's play once more."_

_It was awful, considering how usual romances get, but it was a start._

_By second year, Tezuka had become hypersensitive of Fuji's presence, could tell what Fuji was really feeling no matter how good a mask Fuji had put up, had become a constant presence in Fuji's life. _

_And Fuji only had to turn to him with a genuine smile lighting up his face, for him to forget everything. Where he was, what he was doing, all the rational reasons why he wasn't in love. He even forgot his own damn name. He can't seem to remember what the color of the sky was, or whether or not some celestial object rose whenever so it could give... whatever it was it gave._

_All he could see, all he could hear, all that filled his mind... was Fuji._

_And when Fuji's younger brother left, and Tezuka experienced the intensity of his pain, Tezuka finally allowed himself to admit (to himself) that he loved Fuji._

_Don't get him wrong, nothing changed. On the outside, he was still Fuji's stoic friend, who happened to spend more time in the library with him than not, who happened to not mind when Fuji stood beside him during practice, who happened to walk with him on their way home. But on the inside, the birds were singing, the flowers were dancing, the sun was shining and Tezuka Kunimitsu was very much in love._

_The day Fuji confessed was one of the happiest days of Tezuka's life. And, like many other milestones in their relationship, Tezuka remembered clearly very little._

_He remembered the huge blush Fuji had been sporting, remembered how Fuji took his shocked silence for rejection, remembered reaching out and feeling _something_ in his gut when his skin touched Fuji's. He couldn't remember who started kissing who, but it didn't matter, because Fuji was in his arms and was kissing _back_._

_And the day they first made love... Tezuka remembered very little of that, too. Just... feelings. The passion, the sheer _need_ to be closer, and the feeling he really couldn't describe when they were finally one. _

_And he remembered watching Fuji as he slept, his head buried in Tezuka's chest, a small content smile in his face. Somehow, without Tezuka even knowing, he had managed to tangle their legs together, but Tezuka didn't mind. He liked it._

_The moon was full then, and Fuji had always looked very, very beautiful under the moonlight. It lent his skin an ethereal glow, until his very self appeared iridescent and somehow, Tezuka felt pride bloom in his chest, knowing this rare, special creature was _his_. _

_And his alone._

_He remembered the feeling he really couldn't describe pull at his heart and he knew. He _knew.

_He knew that he would do everything, become everything for this person. _

_All Fuji would have had to do was say the word, and Tezuka wouldn't have stopped until he became the person that could give Fuji the world._

_Tezuka thought (and now, on hindsight, he had thought very foolishly), that they could be happy together (forever and ever and ever)._

_Like Tezuka's grandparents. And Tezuka's parents. Now Tezuka, too, would have his happy-ever-after._

_He had been young. Young, naive, and very, very stupid._

_So when Fuji Yuuta barged through his front door and demanded to speak with him... _

_("He's going to throw away his own life for you!")_

_Tezuka's whole world started to collapse upon itself._

./.

Atobe was in the middle of a very important phone call when his secretary announced Milly Ashford's arrival.

He held up a hand, and glanced, once again at the papers spread out on his table. He didn't think he got the hotel wrong, but the two suites they took were reserved under both their names, so he wasn't sure which one was occupied by whom.

He sighed, and gave both numbers. At any rate, there was a card, wasn't it? They'd know who it was for.

They'd know, Atobe though with a smirk, who it was _from_, too, but it really wasn't good to start counting his chicks before they hatched.

Tezuka would be furious. Actually, he would be beyond furious, but whatever. He needed it. He needed _this_.

And whether or not he would be angry, Atobe, at the very least, deserved a thank you at the end of it all. He arranged for this himself, after all, when he could have been doing something else. He didn't even do it himself for all his many mistresses. It was why he had a secretary.

Atobe ended the call and kept the papers.

For all his pride and pomp, teasing and innuendos, Atobe was Tezuka's friend. And he might be doing this because he still felt the teensy bit guilty over what happened many years ago, when Tezuka destroyed his shoulder during their match, but... well, Tezuka deserved to be happy.

And Atobe knew...

(_"There won't _ever_ be anybody good enough to take his place."_)

He'd only ever be happy with one person.

So because he refused to do something, Atobe was going to do it. After all, wasn't that what friends did for each other? It was just a little thing right now, of couse, but that was because Atobe was still starting. When he really got down to it, it'd be even more grand.

But of course, since he was pretending to be acting with Tezuka's consent, he had to be careful.

Tezuka was a prude, after all.

"Well, good morning to you, too, Atobe-san," the sexy bombshell of a PR greeted, with a sly twist of her mouth that made Atobe want to bed her.

Who cares if she was engaged? She wasn't married _yet_.

"Where's Fuji?" he asked, noticing the lack of the I'm-going-to-skin-you-alive aura.

Milly Ashford shrugged, a playful movement of her shoulders. She was smiling as she sashayed her way towards his desk. She was smiling, yes, but there was something devious in the glint of her eyes.

"In our hotel room," she said, her smile widening. And then, she shamelessly added, "I have to keep him away from dear Tezuka-san."

Atobe knew he should feel dread for Tezuka about this, but the only feeling he could manage right now was triumph. So Fuji would be alone, then.

That made everything even more... _perfect_.

"So he told you, then?" he asked, straightening in his seat. "About what happened between him and Tezuka?"

Her eyes were frigid, even as she maintained her cheerful composure. "I'm not blind, Atobe-san." She held out her hand and inspected her nails. "Nor am I stupid. I'm just..." She paused, acting as if she was at a loss, and failing terribly. Her smile gained a dangerous edge.

"I'm just very territorial, that's all."

Atobe did not acknowledge the threat. A lesser man would have gone running in the opposite direction, but Atobe was Atobe. There wasn't any better explanation than that.

"So you don't know," he mused leaning back on his chair, enjoying himself immensely when she froze for a split second.

"Atobe-san, I'll admit I love gossip," she replied. "I love gossip about Syusuke even more. But, well..." She threw him another one of her faux-happy, dangerous-edged smiles. "Let's just say I'll let him keep his secrets."

And then, before Atobe could even open his mouth, she added, "For now."

For now, indeed. So this was the woman he (and Tezuka) had to go through before they got to Fuji. He brought his fingers to his forehead and assessed her calmly. She was confident in her place, that much he was sure, and he knew she knew just how much power she held over Fuji's heart. But despite that confidence, she was here, marking her territory, issuing a challenge like some fierce bird of prey.

She wasn't the least bit afraid of Atobe and Tezuka, and what they know, and what they, specifically Tezuka, could do to Fuji.

In fact, she was making it seem like they (specifically Tezuka) should be afraid of _her_.

And considering the shrewdness he could see in her eyes, the ease in the way she handled herself, the sly way she twisted her words and acted around Fuji, he knew she had more than enough reason to be confident. She knew what she was doing.

...Milly Ashford, huh. She seemed like a worthy opponent.

This was going to be more interesting than he had originally predicted.

_Very well,_ he thought, confident in his own abilities. _I'll play your game_. "Are you and Fuji getting married, then?"

She threw her head back and laughed. She met his eyes with the ferocity of a huntress, about to go for the kill. "Now, now, Atobe-san," she laughed again. "I think you already know the answer to _that_."

* * *

Clary: BUT ANYWAY. Good news~ Lia and I totally finished structuring the story now, so we have a rough idea of what to do for the remaining chapters (which is far more than we could have said for DP)~~~ Yey~~

Lia: We spent a whole day doing it, actually, because Clary refuses to listen to sense. I, unfortunately, cannot elaborate on that without giving anything away.

Clary: BUT IT DID MAKE SENSE! It was perfectly SENSIBLE to ME!

Lia: Yes, but, in case you haven't noticed, you live in a completely different universe. Of course, you'd think unsensible things are sensible.

Clary: ;salkdfj;hjasfjSLKHJGW;OEFLJKCBAL;EFKJGHSA;JASKLHFLKSKlk. I HATE YOU.

Lia: I hate you, too.

Please review~ They are awesome rift-healers, as well as inspiration :)


	6. Verse 05

**OUR HEARTS GO OUT TO:**

Alatarielf: Waaaahhh~~~ This is the first time anyone has ever made a simile for Clary, she is so happy~~ -cries- It's not weird at all! We love you so much~~~~ -cries more- Ah, as for us, we tend not to write fanfic in school because if we do, we just mostly end up arguing. Ahahahaha –sheepish smile-

fujiyuki: Don't worry! We have every scene of every chapter planned out already~ Wahahahaha~~ We were so happy, we felt like such responsible people. And you're right, Milly and Atobe DO have this dynamic, don't they? Ah, but Milly-chan would never stray ;)

lemon-and-chai: Yeah, that was one of the most hardest parts we ever had to do. It's so hard to make out young and in love Tezuka, we died. Yes. Oh, and Yuuta'll be back, don't worry ;) There's a reason why he yelled, but we can't tell you yet :)

:)

Clary: I hate this chapter. It's awful. It's the most awful chapter I have ever written.

Lia: I don't think this ever occured to you, but you ALWAYS say that for every chapter you write.

Clary: Yes, well, that means that chapters get awfuller and awfuller the more I write. DUH. I'm such a horrible writer.

Lia: Yey. (/sarcasm) And awfuller is not a word.

But do enjoy this horrible chapter anyway :)

* * *

Fuji tried to mask his yawn with a chuckle as he ended the call.

Rivalz was so achingly fun to tease when he was flustered. He spent over an hour just having fun teasing him on the phone while the other half-whined, half-yelled not only at Fuji but also at the rest of their friends chuckling in the background.

He was glad.

At least, after what...

He was just glad.

That said, he clicked the mouse so the next dress he had to view could be displayed on the screen. He flipped the pad of paper he had been writing on, jotting down the name of the designer and the gown number on top of the fresh sheet.

He didn't know why he had to do this. He especially didn't know why he had to do this when he was supposed to be working, like Milly, so they could finalize things for the event that was set to happen in only a couple of days. He most emphatically didn't know why Milly had strongly insisted that she needed none of his help and that he should just stay in the hotel, look through the collection of bridal gowns that had caught her eye and jot down each one's pros and cons while she ran around a country she barely knew (in her high heels) to make sure she did what was supposedly _their_ job.

Why'd he come to Japan, then, if she was so independent? He thought she wanted him here so she could be the slavedriver.

Apparently not.

His apparent only purpose in Japan was to look through her hundred and one gown-possibilities and find out which would fit her body best (unfotunately for Milly, he wasn't a _fashion designer_, damnit). And let's not forget how he should also get his heart rebroken by Tezuka while he was at it (and unfortunately for _Tezuka_, he wasn't a masochist. _Damn it_).

Wasn't that just dandy?

He dropped his head into the table and sighed. He seemed to be sighing a lot these days. Maybe, when he got back home, he could take a nice, long vacation somewhere that was both Milly- and Tezuka-free. Then, he'd clear his head, lie to himself, maybe drink a little, and finally get on with his (pseudo) happy life.

Yes. That sounded nice. That sounded like a _plan_. Maybe he should even go to a completely different continent.

...

When he got back, he'd make plans to go to Antartica.

He was cut off from his thoughts of toddling around with the baby penguins by the sound of knocking on the door.

Milly had his card, didn't she? And she wasn't the type of person to knock, she just bursts through the door. (And if you happened to be standing right at the other side, well, poor you, you should have better reflexes, it's completely your fault, she won't say sorry.)

But he wasn't supposed to have visitors. Nobody knew he was back in Japan. Nobody living in Japan _of consequence_, anyway.

The only people of consequence who _knew_ were Atobe and Tezuka. But they didn't know where he was staying.

Right?

Maybe Milly offhandedly told them? Maybe Atobe took note of it? Maybe he told Tezuka? Maybe Tezuka was knocking on his door and-

He shook his head before he could finish the stupid thought. Tezuka would never, because Tezuka didn't care.

He only realized how hard he was gripping the pencil when he felt it start to splinter. He loosened his hold and placed it calmly on top of the pad.

It was probably just housekeeping or something else equally inane, he told himself as he walked towards the door. There was no need to get worked up over it, it was not something to get apprehensive about.

But he still had to take one steadying breath before he opened the door.

Only to be met with an enormous bouquet of blooming red roses. Something like pearls were mixed in the bunch, almost looking merely like decorations, and fresh dew-like drops of water glinted off the light as it hit each bloom.

He felt his heart stop even as he regained his mask.

This bouquet... probably was for Milly. She got them often enough, many clients liked to shower her with flowers. She was, after all, the most charming of all the lady PRs in the agency, and a lot of people had shown great interest in her. There were some who were fanatical enough to stalk her even when she was outside the country so they could continue showering her with gifts.

(Fuji had admirers, too, but he mostly got chocolates and other such similar gifts from them. They were as plentiful as Milly's but they were more subdued and less... fanatical, for which he was most grateful.)

These flowers were for Milly. _For Milly_.

Right?

"Hello," he said, trying to look over the bouquet to see who was delivering it.

A small face popped out from behind, barely over the top of the flowers, but visible nonetheless. Her hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail, and she had intelligent-looking brown eyes. She smiled at him, as one in her line of work usually did to a customer, but there was a small blush visible on her high cheekbones.

"I'm terribly sorry to disturb... uh, Fuji-sama," she said, struggling to bow while keeping hold of the huge bouquet.

Fuji stopped her before she lost her balance and fell. "It's okay," he assured her as she got to her feet once again.

"Uh... Oh, yes!" She thrust the bouquet out towards him, her blush intensifying. "This came in for you just now," she explained. "I tried the other room, but it seems that no one was there."

She glanced at the door across Fuji's own (Milly's room) before her gaze returned to Fuji. "So... here you are, Fuji-sama," she said, subtly urging him to take it from her.

Fuji's heart started sputtering again. "I don't understand," he said slowly. "This... This came in for Milly, right?" He gestured to the door the girl had been eyeing earlier. "Milly Ashford? She checked in with me."

The girl blinked, juggled the bouquet in one hand as she thrust her hand into her pocket and brought out a piece of paper.

"No, Fuji-sama," she said, still looking at the paper. "It says here this bouquet is meant for you."

"Me?" He felt faint. "Did it say who it was _from_?"

She beamed at him. "It didn't, but I'm sure there is a card." She urged the bouquet on him again. "I don't think I have to say this, but I didn't read anything I shouldn't, Fuji-sama."

"Of course," he said, taking the bouquet with leaden hands. "Of course. Thank you."

"Is there anything else you might be needing, Fuji-sama?"

"No, I'm..." His glace flickered to the heavy bouquet in his hand. They were all red roses, peppered here and there with the occasional pearl. It looked terribly expensive.

Who would send him _these_? No one else knew he was here, and he doubted anyone in his agency would send him roses, of all things, without a proper occasion for it. Christmas wasn't in three months, and his birthday farther away from that.

He tried to finish his sentence, only to find his throat dry.

"I'm fine," he managed.

"Then, please excuse me," she said cheerfully, and Fuji watched her as she bowed and walked away.

He closed his door locked it and glanced at the bouquet once again, fishing for a card, mumbling about how it should be from one of his admirers.

Maybe it was from that lawyer at that function he and Milly had attended. He seemed nice enough, had charming manners and really nice eyes. Milly had teased him about it all week, until he got hold of wasabi and dumped a whole lot of it into her afternoon snacks. Then she started fuming.

Maybe.

Though his heart yearned for something else entirely, knowing it was impossible, but couldn't help wishing anyway. As per usual, Fuji stomped on the hope until it lost and backed away into a little corner he could easily ignore.

The card was a stiff, scented ivory paper, lined with gold border.

He took one look at it, and something inside his chest clenched so hard it hurt. His breath came in quick gasps, and he felt something suspiciously like tears trail its way down his face.

He could almost hear his heart breaking.

...He'd never given Fuji flowers. Not knowingly, not once.

And now, here were roses, and pearls in a large bouquet in his hands, with an expensive card that now had a big, fat teardrop marring its corner.

Did he know? Did he know how Fuji dreamed of a future like this? Did he know how Fuji, when Fuji was curled up in his bed, alone and yearning for something he knew he can't have, did he know how much Fuji _wished_ it would be like _this_? How Fuji wished _everyday, every night_ would be like _this_?

Did he _know_?

It was just one word, but it killed Fuji over and over, until Fuji wished he never had a heart so he wouldn't _hurt_ this much. His vision was blurring, and his hands were trembling as he leaned against the wall for balance. He wanted to scream.

_Did he know?_

The bouquet fell from his hands, almost at the same time the card did, but Fuji didn't stay to watch it hit the floor. He ran to his room, the slamming of the door muffling another softer _thud_. It dislodged a few of the carefully arranged roses and pearls, and a few of the petals came drifting down towards the carpeted floor.

The card fluttered down with more grace, until it landed face up amidst the scattered rose petals.

_Syusuke,_

_Okaeri._

_Kunimitsu_

* * *

**THE MELODY OF TWO HEARTS**

**Verse 05**

_**I look in your eyes and I know what you're thinking of**_

* * *

_The first and only time Tezuka had ever (unknowingly) given him flowers throughout the course of their very short (but very sweet) relationship happened on the day it rained cherry blossoms._

_They always walked home together, but recently, Tezuka had become busier and busier with his work in the student council. Fuji waited for him, of course, even though it displeased Tezuka that Fuji had to. Tezuka had asked him (more than once) to just go ahead, but Fuji never listened. They were getting busier as it was, and having less and less time to spend with each other. He didn't want to take this away, too._

_At the very least, today, he had his camera with him, and he had very interesting subjects he could shoot. _

_Of course, he couldn't take pictures of Tezuka while he was in the meeting. The student council room was at the third floor, and the one time Fuji had climbed a tree to take his precious pictures, he had almost fallen to his death when the vice-president looked up and exclaimed his surprise at seeing precious Fuji-kun climbing trees, snapping picture after picture by the window._

_Tezuka had been livid. But that was after he had suffered through a major panic attack._

_That night, when Tezuka had entered his room, Fuji had been slammed against the door and kissed ravenously, until Fuji whimpered for breath. Then, they had proceeded to play the familiar game of 'Let's-see-how-quiet-Syusuke-can-be' because Fuji's mother was home and sleeping blissfully two doors away while Tezuka fiercely, almost desperately, tangled with Fuji in the sheets._

_The next morning, Tezuka had sworn to hell and back that if Fuji ever, _ever_ did that again, he'd be running laps until his feet bled._

_Fuji had promised he wouldn't do it again, and he never would. As much as he liked taking pictures of his favorite model, he didn't particularly relish the near-death experience (or walking around with a sore bottom, and having tennis practice the next morning)._

_On other times, it felt good, because it reminded him of how Tezuka had been the night before, but it wasn't at all nice when he had to run around the court, limping and returning _Taka's_ (of all people!) heavy shots. He suspected Tezuka felt completely justified._

_At any rate, he had the sakura trees to entertain him while Tezuka holed up with the student council discussing something or another Fuji would know later on. The trees made good subjects, and he already filled up about half of his camera's memory when another soft breeze caused a few more petals to drift down._

_He snapped pictures of that, too, so engrossed that he didn't notice another presence until Tezuka's warm familiar hand settled on his head._

_Fuji turned around to beam at him. "Done already?"_

_Tezuka didn't answer, though his eyes said the affirmative. His hands were busy disentangling a pink petal from Fuji's hair, and Fuji shivered at the feel of those long, warm fingers._

_Fuji felt Tezuka's fingers pull out, but instead of tossing the petal away, his fingers drifted down letting the petal caress the outline of Fuji's face. Fuji looked up to Tezuka, meeting his intense, melting gaze with wide eyes, his heart going into overdrive._

"_Mitsu?" he breathed, still feeling the smooth petal tickling his jaw where Tezuka's hand had stopped._

"_You look good with sakura," Tezuka said, his voice strangely husky. "I like it."_

_Fuji let himself bask in the compliment, his face leaning into the warmth of Tezuka's strong hand, and the teasing touch of the sakura petal Tezuka still held._

_And then he chuckled. "I can't believe you," he said, taking Tezuka by surprise, slapping Tezuka's arm playfully. "I look _good?_" he questioned, his tone mock-angry. "Is that all you can say? At the very least, you could have said I look beautiful, or hot, or sexy."_

_He gave Tezuka a grin, his smile widening as he took in the sight of a bewildered Tezuka, with a barely visible blush on his cheeks. _

"_I'm sorry," Tezuka tried, looking as if he didn't quite know what to say. It was cute. "I mean... You look... Se... No... I... Ah."_

_Fuji laughed again, taking Tezuka's hand and kissing the underside of his wrist. The petal fluttered against his ear. "Mitsu, you're so cute." He nuzzled against the warm hand, smiling fondly. "But you're too serious."_

_He beamed, meeting Tezuka's eyes. "Then again, you wouldn't be my Mitsu if you weren't."_

_Tezuka's hand drew him forward until his was pressed up against Tezuka's strong chest. _

"_Your Mitsu?" Tezuka repeated, and maybe it was his heart beating crazily, or maybe it was Fuji's own, but Fuji could have barely managed to raise his head and meet the warm hazel eyes._

"_Yeah." He clutched at the cloth of the uniform covering Tezuka's chest. "My Mitsu."_

_Tezuka smiled. He was so impossibly handsome when he smiled, and it gave Fuji a warm, fuzzy feeling, spreading quickly until it filled up Fuji's whole body. Tezuka's other hand cupped his face, thumb caressing his cheek slowly, gently, but it only made Fuji want him more._

_He drew closer, raising his face to meet Tezuka's own as it bent down and loomed over him. _

"_Then," Tezuka said, his breath warm even against Fuji's heated cheeks. "That makes you my Syusuke."_

"_Yes," Fuji replied, barely managing to utter anything else. "Yours."_

"_Mine," Tezuka affirmed before his lips molded with Fuji's and there were no more words between them._

_Later, in his room, his fingers dancing across the cover of his journal, Fuji had to smile triumphantly. Tezuka didn't know it, he probably hadn't even noticed, but Fuji had pried that petal away from Tezuka's hand before it could flutter away. Now, it lay pressed against the pages of this journal, and Fuji would forever have a memento of one of his most favored, most treasured memories. _

_It was the first (and only) flower (petal) Tezuka had ever (unknowingly) given him._

./.

It was just about time for dinner when Milly finally stumbled to the hotel's elevator.

She gave up. Japanese was just so damn _hard_. How could one character mean more than two completely different things? It wasn't humanly possible! Damn it, whether or not they saw Tezuka-san tomorrow, Syusuke was coming and translating for her, because she didn't want another episode of _Eigo ga wakarimasuka?_ (which is pretty much all she _really _retained in all the language lessons Syusuke had forced her into) in the freaking streets in her freaking high heels.

No, thanks.

Besides, if Tezuka-san still didn't get the message, then to hell with indecent exposure or whatever, she was going to kiss the hell out of Syusuke in the middle of the fucking street.

She'd do whatever it takes, she wasn't ever going to see Syusuke's dead eyes again.

_Ever_.

And if she had to be shameless to accomplish it, then so be it, she'd always been shameless anyway.

She inserted Syusuke's card and waited as the door unlocked. He should be making dinner by now. She wondered what he had made for her. Let it be something so delicious that the tiredness would just seep off her bones until she had no desire to do anything at all other than snuggling against a pillow (or Syusuke, if he'd let her) and dozing off for the night.

...But the room was dark as the door shut behind her.

Her eyebrows knit together in confusion and anxiety. Already, she was having a bad feeling about this.

She switched on the light, looking around the seemingly deserted room. Her eyes landed on a large bouquet lying on the floor at her feet. There were a few dislodged roses, and some petals and... were those _pearls?_... scattered around it. There was also a small, rectangular card lying with the petals, and she bent down closer to pick it up.

She only had the chance to get one good glance at it before her hand had crumpled the stiff paper.

"Syusuke!" she called throwing the paper across the room, where it bounced off against the wall to heaven knew where (good riddance).

"Syusuke!" she called again, getting up. She looked down at the abandoned bouquet, decided it looked pretty, and stepped over it. She couldn't bring herself to do anything to pretty things. "Syusuke, I know you're here."

She tried the door to his bed. It was unlocked.

It was dark inside, too, but it was obvious no one was still around. She turned on the lights, and checked the balcony, as well, just in case. She sighed and went to check the adjoining bathroom, too, only to find the door locked.

Her entire body sagged against the door with relief. "Syusuke?" she asked, knocking lightly on the door.

There was no reply, no sound of movement at all.

"Syusuke, there's no use pretending you're not here," she said, a little louder this time. She pressed her ear against the door to try and strain her ears for any sound.

She heard water sloshing, though it was very faint, and barely audible.

"Go away." The voice was Syusuke's, but it was terribly hoarse and strangely cracked.

She banged against the door, the anxiety twisting her stomach into knots once again. "Syusuke, open the door!"

"Go _away_, Milly," came the hoarse, almost hysterical voice.

"No! Open the door!"

"Leave me _alone_."

Of all the...

"Syusuke, you will have to get out sometime," she warned lowly, punctuating her words with another round of banging.

"Says you."

She barely restrained herself from growling. So _now_ he was going to act like a child? Fine. But she won't go along with his act. "If you don't open this fucking door." She kicked at it fiercely. It might have left some scratch or dent, but she really didn't care. "I'm going to break it down myself."

"I'd like to see you try."

"You know I could." She kicked at it again.

There was a long, long moment of silence. Milly wished Syusuke wouldn't be difficult. Yeah, she could break down the door, but her feet were hurting, it would destroy her heels and she will have to suffer through a week's worth of lectures from Lelouch about acting her age for her job. And she _really_ didn't want that.

The sloshing of water jolted her out of her reverie. There was light streaming from below the bathroom door now, and she breathed another sigh of relief. She heard the _click_ of Syusuke unlocking the door, and before he could change his mind, she flung the door open fiercely.

Her heart dropped to her stomach.

"Syusuke..." She couldn't say anything after that.

Syusuke didn't give anything, any sign that he had heard her speak. He just stood there, utterly still in the middle of the huge bathroom. His clothes were dripping wet, and he was soaked to the bone. He was shivering, too, and his attempts at hiding it were not very successful. His eyes were hidden underneath the bangs plastered chaotically against his forehead.

She reached out a hand to touch him. His skin was so cold.

Feeling something twisting yet again, she stomped across wet tiles to the still-full tub and dipped her hand into the water.

It was freezing.

"How long have you locked yourself in here?" she asked quietly, knowing if she raised her voice, she wouldn't be able to stop shouting.

Syusuke didn't answer, and she turned to watch him out of narrowed eyes. She stalked towards the towel rack, and threw a towel around his body. She started drying him, angrily, roughly, but he was as still as he had been when she entered the room. He made no sound, made no move except for the shivering that had wracked his body.

And when she drew the towel across his face, more droplets streamed down to replace those she had wiped away.

He was crying.

"How long had you locked yourself in here?" she asked again, but far more gently as she led him out of the room and guided him to sit on his bed.

"I don't know," he replied softly, his voice painfully hollow.

He was making sniffing noises now, but she pretended she didn't notice as she perused his luggage for more comfortable clothing. She pulled out pajamas she was sure his sister, Yumiko, had placed into his luggage.

"Here," she said, settling the clothes down beside his shivering form. "Change into these, okay? I'm getting you something hot to drink."

When she got back, he was sitting in much the same place, in much the same position, but at least, he was dry.

She gave him a steaming cup. "It's hot chocolate," she said, attempting to smile. "Don't worry, I didn't bang around the kitchen for it. I called room service."

He accepted the cup, but there was no life in his movements. It was almost as if he was just going through the motions, like a detached marionette being controlled by the puppeteer's strings. Like a doll a little girl moves around to play tea with. He didn't drink, and Milly watch him worriedly until a tear dropped into the surface of his drink, causing ripples to form.

She took his cup away, placed it on his bedside, and knelt down, trying to peer up into his eyes. "Syusuke," she said firmly. "What were you _thinking_?"

He didn't meet her eyes, turning his head away. He took a shuddering breath, before he answered so softly, she wouldn't have heard if she wasn't straining her ears to hear his answer.

"Did you see the flowers?" he asked, the corner of his mouth twitching a little.

Milly sighed and took his cold, cold hands, rubbing them together so he would get warm. "Yes." There was no use denying it. It was lying by the doorway, anyone who came in had to see it.

"Did you know," he was turning to face her, his mouth stretched into a wry, self-depreciating smile. "Did you know he never gave me flowers before?"

"Syusuke-"

"Did you know how much I had wanted him to? I always thought maybe he would. Just once, _just once_, maybe he'd remember me enough, think of me enough, _love_ me enough to give me even just a single rose, a single _anything_, so I have something to hold on to when he couldn't be with me at night?"

More tears flowed down his cheeks, and he made a sound at the back of his throat she couldn't identify. He was breathing hard, as if he couldn't quite get enough air into his lungs. His hands were shaking in her grasp, and Milly knew it wasn't from the cold.

"Did you know how much I _wished_ he would, so I would have some concrete proof that he loved me, too? So I wouldn't have to stay awake, trying to convince myself that we were happy? So I wouldn't... So I wouldn't have to keep on trying to read deeply and make my own conclusions about his actions so I could tell myself that 'there, he did that because he loves me'... Milly... Milly, I _wanted _it_ so much_." He gasped, pulled a hand to wipe away his tears.

It was a futile action, because more tears replaced what he had wiped away. She took hold of his wrist, before he could do something that would only hurt himself. She pulled him into a hug, let his tears flow down her neck as she cradled his head and patted his back soothingly.

His voice was so _broken_, so sad, Milly herself wanted to cry.

"Milly, he gave me roses today," he said. His attempt at faux-cheer was depressing and heartbreaking, because he was so very obviously not happy.

"He gave me roses," he repeated. "But it's too late, because everything's over and there's nothing between us anymore. He gave me roses, but he'd already told me he didn't love me. I don't... I can't... anymore. Milly, I just _can't_."

She crooned softly as she pulled his face away, cupping it in her hands. She moved his bangs, tucked it behind his ear so she could gaze at his eyes.

And she gave out a long, ragged breath, feeling something in herself breaking.

Syusuke's eyes had always been beautiful, but they'd also always been sad. No matter what how much he smiled, no matter how happy he looked, how heartily he laughed, there was always that sadness swimming in their depths. And no matter what they all did, it never seemed to go away completely. Nina said that's probably why he always hid them.

But this... this was...

The singular, utter _anguish_, the raw _agony_ that seemed to fill them up tore at Milly's heart, shredding it until she was sure nothing would be left. Her hand trembled, her grip on his face loosening, and she couldn't seem to find the breath to speak.

No one, absolutely _no one_, should be made to live with this kind of pain.

It hurt just to even _look_ at him.

"Syusuke..."

"Milly," his voice was taking on a pleading note. "Milly, I had to stop _feeling_. I had to... I had to _stop_."

This wasn't her Syusuke. This wasn't the strong, witty, gentle Syusuke that had let her dress him up and use him for whatever purposes for her next festival. This wasn't the Syusuke she knew, the Syusuke who was always sad, but had always found a reason to smile and be happy.

This wasn't _him_.

Milly didn't know where he went, but she was pretty sure, _pretty damn sure_, that Tezuka-san, with one look and a bunch of flowers, had taken him away.

Tezuka-san had broken Syusuke's fragile spirit. He did it a long time ago, and once again, today. He had probably broken more than that, and he probably still would, until he felt sufficiently satisfied.

And that bastard said he loved Syusuke.

Utter bullshit, if Milly had ever heard one. All he had been good at, thus far, was hurting him.

And Milly would never forgive him for that.

She was going to chase him away from Syusuke's heart, until nothing he would ever think of doing could hurt Syusuke anymore.

"Syusuke, look at me," she ordered, taking his face and meeting his agony-filled eyes once again. She wanted to look away, but she had to do this. "He's just a client. Do you understand?"

Syusuke nodded slowly, but Milly could see he didn't get her point.

"Syusuke, clients give us gifts all the time," she explained, frantically, knowing if she didn't succeed, she would lose her Syusuke forever. "My clients even follow me wherever so they could give me gifts. I get rose bouquets all the time, but it doesn't mean _anything_. They're just gifts from clients who had taken a liking to how you work."

There was something flickering in Syusuke eyes now, something that wasn't anguish, and yet, it still wasn't quite anything else. But he was listening, his eyes locked on hers with a sort of desperation that meant he was hanging on her every word.

"That bouquet, by the door?" She stared at him fiercely, trying to get him to understand. "That bouquet is a gift from just another client. _Just another client_, do you get me?"

The tension in Syusuke's body was lessening, his eyes closing as he leaned against Milly. "Just another client," he parroted, nodding his head, his hand clutching at her clothes tightly.

"Yes, that's right."

"Milly," his voice was still raw, but the strength and the life it had lacked was coming back. "I don't know what to do. I don't..." He raised his head to meet her eyes. "What should I do?"

Milly smiled gently. "We'll write a thank-you note, like we do to all our other clients."

Syusuke dropped his head against her neck again. "...Okay."

"Good." She drew away, and got him settled on the bed. "Now, sleep."

He didn't let go, though, and Milly found herself prying his fingers away from her clothes.

His eyes flickered up to hers again. "Sleep with me?" The unspoken _please_ was loud in the quiet of the room.

Milly smiled again. "Let me get changed," she said, patting his head teasingly.

Syusuke removed his hands and settled down. His eyes were fluttering close, his face relaxing. "And then you'll be back?"

"And then I'll be back."

When she settled down under the sheets with Syusuke, he was asleep. She spent a few moments tracing his face before she wrapped both her arms around one of his and snuggled closer.

Her mind was still whirling, though, even as she felt herself drift off to sleep, trying to think of how to best exploit the fact that it was _her_ sharing Syusuke's bed and not Tezuka-san, and how to rub it all over Tezuka-san's face until it bruised.

She let her finger drift down Syusuke's arm and smiled, because as far as Tezuka-san was concerned, _this_... everything he had once had, everything he didn't feel the need to appreciate, everything he took for granted... now belonged to _Milly_.

* * *

Clary: Yes. You may shoot me.

Lia: Not inside our house, though, because I really don't want her to make a mess of the new carpet. I, also, don't want to clean up.

Clary: Lia, you're supposed to be all sympathetic like: NOOOOOOO, don't kill Clary, she's too young (and pretty) to die~~~~~~~

Lia: I thought this was a self-depreciating, kill-me-now-before-I-dole-out-anything-worse game.

Clary: You know what, forget it. –sticks out tongue- ANYWAY, we might not be able to post on Thursday coz Lia and I might be starting to move to our dorms (we got one where we're roomies, yey!) and it's gonna be real busy :)

Lia: But if there's time, I'll make her write. She's been less of a lazy ass this week (surprisingly) but I'm still not as excited about the fact that I'm going to spend uni living with the laziest, noisiest girl in the planet.

Clary: AWEEEEEE. I LOVE YOU, TOO, LIA –HEARTS-

We love to know what you guys think so do review, please :)


	7. Verse 06

**OUR HEARTS GO OUT TO:**

Alatarielf: No, don't get destroyed! –huggles you safely- We love Milly very much, but many other things are secret for now~ Don't worry, we'll know what happened real soon, so please bear with us, ne? WE LOVE YOU, TOO so very very much :) Oh, and maa, thanks for liking the flashback~ If it really was such a commodity, we'd give it to you for free~ ;)

fujiyuki: We love angst~ Wahaha~ And ou won't have to wonder, because this is a Yuuta-chapter~ Weee~ We're kind of sorry for Tezu-chan, too, but it's the muse's fault. Bad muse! We're sorry it's a little late, though :(

Trees of leaves: Maa, thanks for pointing it out! There's actually a funny story for that, but we can't tell you because Lia's hands are tied and she can't do anything~ (Clary: Bwahaha) Rest assured, she acted all smug around Clary when you pointed it out, though. –hearts- Oh, and damn, you're good. :))

Seishirou Hitsugaya: AH! We love that song~~ We could spend entire afternoons just listening to it~ Thank you so much, we're glad you like it! This update's a little late, but we hope you enjoy it!

:)

Clary: Umm. There is a reason why this chapter is late. And it's a good reason, too. PROMISE. Uhh... Lia, you tell them.

Lia: Okay. We were moving to our dorms, yeah? And we luckily dropped nothing, but of course that is just me speaking too soon, because just when I thought all was right with the world, little miss clumsy over there decided to HOP down the stairs when I told her NOT TO, and THUS, she lost her balance and FELL.

Clary: Ehehe... Don't worry guys, I'm okay (sort of). I only have a few days of unconsciousness, a concussion, some stitches(?) and a twisted ankle to show for it :) The only problem was I was only able to write the first part of this chapter before the move so... it's late :)

Lia: AND YOU'RE HAPPY? Do you know how panicked I was? I THOUGHT YOU DIED! Damn it, Issa, I hate it when you do these things to me.

Clary: HEEEYYY. Why am I Issa again?

Lia: Because you don't deserve to be Clary. I'll call you Clary when I feel like you earned it again. For now, you're Issa.

Clary: BUT~~~~~ LIA~~~~~~ That's unfair~~~~~~~~

Lia: Try being me when I found you at the bottom of the steps with blood on your head. Then we'll see if it's unfair.

And even though it's late, please do enjoy :)

* * *

When Yuuta turned ten, he decided his older brother had ruined his entire life.

And Fuji Syusuke didn't have a hard time of doing it, too. All he (frankly) had to do was exist. A genius tennis player with drop-dead model looks and an impressive IQ that Yuuta thought could have even put Einstein to shame, he'd been the perfect son, the perfect student, the perfect _everything_. Not to mention his innocent, disarming, look-at-me-don't-I-look-pretty god-awful smile that threw everyone off and had all the adults practically _stumbling_ over themselves to have the right to _coo_ at his feet about how particularly _angelic_ he was.

Girls in school fell in line (_they had a waitlist!_) just to be able to talk to him, and _dare he say it_, so did most (all) of the boys, but that didn't really matter since angelic, perfect Syusuke was nice (and was friends with) _everybody_. Teachers had nothing but praise for him, and the _principal_ called his mother frequently to tell her how much of a genius her son was (Yuuta suspected he probably just didn't want their mother enrolling her son somewhere else, so they could continue to brag about their darling little perfect student). Even people who passed by him on the street had to stop and tell him how cute he looked and 'Wasn't that his picture they saw on the newspaper in the sports section today? Congratulations!'

In comparison, Yuuta had stumbled through his first tennis lessons and had lost his first match in his first tournament horribly (6-0, and a love game to boot).

In comparison, Yuuta came home toting red-marked papers and homeworks graded with Bs.

In comparison, Yuuta got into fights, nasty ones that had the principal calling his mother for a completely different reason apart from Syusuke's continued academic prowess.

In comparison, Yuuta had painfully normal, average, common Japanese brown hair and average, common Japanese brown eyes.

In comparison, Yuuta had a scowl that had people muttering behind his back about how they just _didn't_ understand how Yuuta became like _that_ when his brother was just the most perfect little thing in the world.

In comparison, when Yuuta walked beside his brother and people passed by them on the street, he was mostly ignored (forgotten) because people didn't want to tell his parents about how, when Yuuta stood beside Syusuke, _in comparison_, he was positively brutish.

In comparison, Yuuta was easily nobody.

It was more than a little unfair because it (_clearly_) wasn't Yuuta's fault that when dear kami-sama decided to give away blessings, Syusuke had been sitting at the front row seat.

Yuuta hadn't even _asked_ to be his brother.

Like Yuuta would want a life where the only time he was noticed by anyone was when they snidely said his name, telling his parents in polite terms about how big a gap there was, and always will be between precious Syusuke and precious Syusuke's little brother.

Not Yuuta, not even Fuji-kun, but Syusuke's little brother.

Fucking damn them, they had no right to talk about him when they couldn't even get _his own damn name_ right.

What was worse was that Syusuke actually _reached out_ to him, as if Yuuta's suffering hadn't been brought about by Syusuke himself. Syusuke actually acted like he _cared_ for Yuuta and Yuuta's feelings when Yuuta's feelings were shit because everyone was too busy looking at _Syusuke_ to give Yuuta even the smallest of glances. Syusuke had always smiled and _acted like the victim_ when he was the one killing Yuuta every day _without even trying_.

It made Yuuta sick.

So when he turned twelve and old enough, he left, because he couldn't stand another day of perfect Syusuke-victim and 'don't you see how sad you make him, pushing him away?' at home and another day of fake-friends who were only trying to get at his brother and 'hey, you're tensai Fuji Syusuke's little brother, aren't you?' at school.

Yumiko had told him, every time she got to insert in into the conversation somewhere, that she knew he loved his older brother despite whatever he said, and that his older brother loved him, too, and they'd both be happier if they both just man up, sit down and talk and work out their differences.

Yuuta hadn't believed her then, because Yuuta was so much happier in St. Rudolph and frankly, the differences between perfect Syusuke and plain Yuuta were too great to work out.

Yuuta was thirteen when he started believing her. When Syusuke had, for the first time, appeared like a human in his eyes and not the perfect, angel-doll that he had led himself to see. When it actually sounded nice in his ears to have _the_ Fuji Syusuke as his older brother.

It took Yuuta three years.

And it took Yuuta three years, and only heaven knew how many hours pacing before the operating room, praying to whatever diety in existence to _please_ not let his brother die, so he could finally fully believe that he geniunely cared for his brother and that he couldn't imagine a life without him.

Three years, a transfer to another country, and a week (more or less, he hadn't really been counting) spent in the hospital eating (or pretending to) out of the awful cafeteria and sleeping (or pretending to) on the awful chair.

The hospital had been one of the best in the state, and the doctors one of the best in the country. But the smiles of the nurses were empty, the walls were too white...

..._and the entire place smelled of disinfectant. The atmosphere was awful, because those who resided in the hospital were the sick, the worried relatives of the sick, or those who took care of the sick. _

_His mother had spent the entire time crying because she believed it was her fault, so his father had spent the entire time comforting her. Yumiko was the only one who was old and coherent enough to listen to the doctors, and the rest of the time, she spent by Syusuke's bed, chatting amicably like everything had been the way it was before shit happened. _

_Syusuke hardly said anything._

_Actually, throughout everything, Syusuke barely even _moved_, let alone talked. Their parents thought it was... normal (which led to Mother blaming herself even more), Yumiko suspected, but only Yuuta knew the truth._

_The truth about the bastard Tezuka, Syusuke's misguided love, Yuuta's misguided trust and pretty much just how Tezuka added more shit into the already huge pile._

_So it was little wonder why Yuuta spent the entire time hating him._

_And when Yuuta woke up in the middle of the night to hear Syusuke trying to stifle his sobs so he wouldn't have to wake anyone up, his anger reached a peak so high he swore to himself that he would never trust anyone with his brother ever again._

"_Aniki," he called, straightening out from his slump, trying to rub the sleep away from his eyes. "You crying?"_

_His eyes adjusted to the darkness enough to see Syusuke hastily wiping away his tears and snapping his smile back on. _

"_No, I..." It was the first time Syusuke had spoken ever since they got here, and his voice was more than a little hoarse. As Yuuta walked towards his bedside, Syusuke sighed and dropped the mask._

"_I'm tired, Yuuta."_

_He was more than tired. Yuuta knew. Yuuta knew because only he had been there after Tezuka had finished breaking him over and over into pieces so tiny, Yuuta could hardly bear to see them. Yuuta knew, and he desperately wished there was something he could do. But there wasn't._

_Like usual._

_He'd gone to Tezuka, wishing Tezuka could save his brother, but the only thing Tezuka did was push him further towards death. _

_He reached out and clasped his aniki's thin, cold hand and squeezed. "Yeah, well, in a little while, you'll be released from this place and we'd go home." _

_Home, as in, the new house they'd bought on the suburbs, that looked too airy, too bright and too American to ever be anything other than 'the house in the suburbs.' It didn't have the memories they had growing up. It didn't have a gate with kanji marking it as the Fuji household, or the low coffee table and cushions in the living room. It didn't have Mother's specifically designed kitchen and the small counter where they used to sit and (try to) help Mom with the cooking. It didn't have the small dent on the staircase where Yuuta had fallen down and bumped his face on, that had Syusuke panicking, running around the house for the first-aid kit and the phone, calling their mother even as he frantically tried to apply first aid with hands so small, but so gentle._

_But it was home now. "You can rest all you want there," he added helpfully._

_Syusuke just stared at him with blank, blank eyes as he leaned back on his pillows and made himself comfortable on the bed. It was funny, actually. How, only a short time ago, Yuuta would have given anything to be stronger than Syusuke, and now that he had it, he'd give anything to have the other Syusuke back._

"_Yuuta, does this make me a bad person?" Syusuke asked weakly, closing his eyes as a stray tear made its way down his cheek again. "Does it make me a bad person if I want it to be all over so I wouldn't have to live with this pain anymore?"_

_Yuuta's grip on his brother's hand tightened. In his mind's eye, he could see it now, a wake and then a funeral, and hours spent in the cemetery, in front of a grave marked by his brother's name, hearing people whispering about how they _didn't_ understand, he should have been... _

_Yeah. He should have been fine._

_But they didn't know about Tezuka._

"_Aniki, don't say that!" He suppressed the urge to shake him. "Okay? _I'm_ waiting for you, and so is Mom and Dad and Yumiko. And... And..."_

_Fuck, why was he _crying_?_

"_And I haven't even beaten you at tennis yet so..." _

_Syusuke opened his blank eyes and regarded him with a gaze that was as close to curious as he could make. _

_Yuuta brought his face closer and practically snarled, "So _stay alive _until then."_

Yuuta woke up with a grunt.

Great. Just great. So, after he had to wait through three flights (because all of them were _booked_, how many people go to Japan this time of year anyway?), he _had_ to fall asleep on the plane and dream about memories better left forgotten.

But perhaps it was for the best that he remembered, so he knew exactly what it was he was up against. He couldn't bring himself to be careless, because the last time he had believed too much, he'd almost lost his brother.

It had taken him a full thirteen years to finally start the right sort of connection with his brother, one that was not based on envy or anger or hate. He'd spent the rest of his days after the hospital-week trying to keep it.

And he'd continue to do it.

He looked at note his secretary had sent him about where his aniki was staying with Milly, along with the location of the event. Most likely, they'd be there, and it'd take under an hour to get there, from the airport, if he remembered correctly.

"Sir?"

He looked up to see the flight attendant smiling at him. "Please turn it off," she said, gesturing expansively, still with the killer smile. "We'll begin landing shortly."

Yuuta gave a curt nod. First the venue, then the hotel, then their old house. Their parents didn't sell it, for whatever reason, and they've hired a caretaker to look into it once in a while. His mother visited with his father often, and so did Yumiko, but Syusuke and Yuuta never did.

This would be Yuuta's first.

Hopefully, his brother wouldn't have to know. It would take a week, tops.

One week.

Yuuta was going to save his brother from himself, from Tezuka and from anyone else who had potential to ruin what peace his brother had worked so hard to create for himself, what peace Yuuta had worked so hard to protect.

And _this time_, he wasn't going to fail.

* * *

**THE MELODY OF TWO HEARTS**

**Verse 06**

_**I try not to say the words that might just scare you away**_

* * *

How did this sound?

_Tezuka,_

_Thank you for the flowers. I don't really like roses, but I guess I have no control over the preferences of my client. This is the first time a client has ever gifted me with such and I am as surprised as I am grateful. They were quite thoughtful._

_However, I would like to remind you to please stop being so informal. I might have lived in America for the past few years, but I am still, in essence, Japanese. Please respect that._

_Your PR,_

_Fuji_

It sounded like crap is what it sounded like. He might as well put in _You're just the client. You have no right_.

It was almost as bad as putting in _And by the way, did you know I still loved you?_

Actually, now that he thought about it, he _did_ put that in somewhere, in one of the thirty-something notes he had crumpled and thrown in the trash can. (Thirty-four, but who's counting? Not Fuji, that's for sure.)

He crumpled this one and made it number thirty-five.

Milly had insisted he should stay. His head had been aching in the morning and he may have sneezed once in a while, but it was nothing Fuji couldn't have handled. Setting up the location was so much better than sitting here, feeling sick and sorry for himself, writing a note he knew he couldn't bear to write to Tezuka.

He could hardly go three sentences without wanting to scribble down _Why?_

_Why did you send me flowers? Why did you send me _roses_? Why now? Why did you have to come back in my life just when I decided I could finally move on again? Why did you have to be nice, and talk and... Why did you have to give me hope?_

_Why did you _leave_?_

He'd told Fuji he never loved him.

"_I never loved you,"_ that's what he said. Fuji's heart had been breaking, but Tezuka hadn't cared. Tezuka just went on to tell him he wasn't useful anymore, that they were done, because Tezuka had more important things to do.

He'd even called Fuji a slut.

All Fuji had ever been was in love.

But Tezuka... Well, Tezuka had been the tennis captain, student council president, and a teenager with raging hormones. And Fuji, or more particularly, Fuji's body had been there, open for use.

...It wasn't Tezuka's fault, really. It had been Fuji who had been stupid, after all. It had been Fuji who confessed, and stupidly believed it was all okay when Tezuka said he loved Fuji, too. It had been Fuji who kissed him, Fuji who straddled him, Fuji who pushed all the buttons he could have pushed to make Tezuka lose control.

It was all Fuji's fault.

But that just made it _hurt_ even more.

Because Tezuka had used him, hurt him, left him alone, and yet... _and yet_, Fuji was still horribly in love with him.

The teardrop that fell into the paper blotted out whatever word Fuji had been absentmindedly writing. He watched it trail down the paper, a mixture of ink and tears and felt something inside of him disappear, leaving a big black hole on the place it used to occupy.

He reached for his phone, and waited as it rang.

./.

From arranging the stupid bouquet around a vase to finally fixing up the location after a long and tedious compromise between the two birthday boys, it was all in a day's work for Milly Ashford. It might have gone better if Syusuke was around, but he'd made himself a little sick, sitting on a bathtub chock full of freezing cold water, and there was nothing she could do about that.

He'd be around for the party, though, with Milly so obviously in his arms, and both of them looking like the perfect pretty couple together. She fingered the invite Atobe-san had sent her one last time before she stuffed it into her bag.

Her phone was ringing.

"Syusuke," she greeted. "I thought my chicken soup knocked you dead."

Syusuke gave a breathy, mostly empty laugh. "Fortunately, I have a cast-iron stomach." He paused as she heard a sound suspiciously like crumpling paper. "Nice try, though."

"Why, thank you." She giggled, fingering the sample table arrangements. Then she sobered up. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm..." Another pause. And then Syusuke sighed. "As fine as I can be, I suppose."

"How fine is that?" she asked, pressing the phone close to her ear. "You're not trying to slit your wrists, are you?"

"I think I would have noticed if I did." The tone was wry.

She let out a breath. "Just making sure."

"Milly..."

"Hmm?"

"...Nothing. Uh, can you..." The tone, this time, was hesitant, and her worry spiked back up again. "Help me with the note, please?"

"I'd be happy to, Syusuke." A slow smile she really couldn't help made its way to her face. "Very happy to."

It was only when the phone call ended that she noticed another presence in the room apart from her own.

"I thought I said to leave me alone until you have..." She turned around, reverting back to boss-mode.

"Yuuta."

The younger Fuji brother in the flesh. It had been quite a while since she last saw him, but nothing had really changed. His hair was still cropped short and the same brown several shades darker than his brother's. Same fierce eyes, upright posture and lean body.

Where Syusuke was effeminate, Yuuta was all man and muscle, and had a certain rougish air and charm that drew the opposite gender's eyes towards his imposing form. He was handsome in ways different from his brother.

And right now, he was standing in front of her in casual clothes, his arms crossed at his chest. His eyebrows were raised.

"How much should I worry?" he asked, not angrily, but not very nicely either.

"Scale of one to ten?" She looked at her phone, remembered last night and sighed. "Twelve."

Yuuta's entire body stiffened.

"I'm sorry, Yuuta," she said, slumping down on one of the many chairs around the room. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know about him and Tezuka-san and I thought-"

"_Tezuka-san_?" Yuuta repeated, cutting her off. Which was just as well, because she didn't know what to say, anyway. What could she _say, _when she didn't know anything? What _was_ she supposed to say, when she wasn't told anything at all? When she went into the situation clueless? You'd think, after more than half of their lives spent together, Syusuke could have found the time to tell her.

Obviously not.

"You mean they _met_?"

"Yes," she closed her eyes and shook her head to clear away the images. "He gave your brother flowers, and Syusuke probably spent the entire day yesterday soaked in ice cold water because of it."

Yuuta's expression only became stonier. "What flowers?"

Milly opened her eyes and met his gaze. "Like I-love-you flowers." _Like roses. Does that mean anything to you, Yuuta, because to your brother, it meant a lot._

Enough for him to cry over it, anyway. Had Milly ever done anything that meant as much to Syusuke? That meant more?

...Yes. She had.

She said _yes_.

And she couldn't help feeling just the least bit proud and satisfied.

But Yuuta... Well, Milly couldn't have described Yuuta's face if she tried. Yuuta didn't even say anything else, he just turned around and started stomping out of the room.

"Yuuta," she called and waited as he turned back to her, almost unwillingly. "Here." She tossed him Syusuke's key card.

Yuuta caught it without even looking. "Thanks."

He started walking away again, pausing by the grand double doors long enough to raise a hand in goodbye. "Oh, and Rivalz told me."

Milly cocked her head to the side, humming questioningly.

"Congratulations."

And even though there was something in the tone that Milly can't quite place, she couldn't hold back yet another smile. "Why, thank you, Yuuta," she replied. "I appreciate your blessing."

./.

Yuuta had tried to imagine the worst.

Opening the door to see Syusuke sitting around a pile of crumpled papers certainly wasn't it, but he supposed that was just the bright side of pessimism.

Expect the worst, and everything will always turn out better in comparison. Unless the worst happened, of course, because then, you'd just find yourself in deep shit. Deep shit you had been expecting, so that was good, in a way. At least you were prepared for it, right?

His gaze automatically locked onto the vase full of bright red roses, even as Syusuke gave a surprised little sound and got to his feet.

He was wearing pajamas still, Yuuta noticed, and a robe over that, but that was all. And as he met his brother's gaze, Yuuta realized that he'd been too late.

His eyes were back to being haunted and empty and even though he smiled, and his lids fluttered close, there was just something in the way he handled himself that said just how close he was to drifting back down to-

"_Why can't you all just let me die?"_

A part of Yuuta, and a rather large part, too, if he was honest with himself, wanted to leave, track down Tezuka and tear him apart limb from limb with his own hands, spill the same amount of blood (maybe more) that Tezuka had forced Syusuke into spilling, make him understand just how much he had ruined Yuuta's brother beyond repair. Another part wanted him to do it in front of Syusuke, so his brother would finally see the coward for who he was and _stop_ destroying himself over a love that wasn't even worth it.

But Yuuta never listened to those parts. Instead, he shifted uncomfortably in the entryway and said, "Hi aniki."

His brother blinked. "You're supposed to be in America."

"So are you," he shot back, closing the door and moving further inside the room.

"I'm working."

Syusuke settled on the usual smiling mask again. It was bland, and quite well-done, and had Yuuta been anyone else, it would have made for a convincing pretense. However, he was Yuuta, and he'd spent many, many months under the same roof with Syusuke as he lugged it around like some sort of security blanket.

It was a familiar and depressingly heartbreaking smile.

It was, _Don't worry, Yuuta. I'm fine_, all over again, as if Yuuta still needed to be protected from the truth. Yuuta felt something ache within him as he realized, once again, how much his aniki cared. All those years Yuuta had pushed him away, all those years Yuuta had told him he hated him, and his brother still found it in himself to care for Yuuta, and worry over Yuuta when it was _his_ condition that was worrisome.

Yuuta didn't know what good thing in his previous life he had done to deserve a brother like Syusuke, but he'd do it a thousand times over again, because there was nothing else in the world that he wanted more.

He rushed forwards and (almost awkwardly) wrapped his arms around his brother. He had long outgrown Syusuke, and now he stood at almost a head taller than his delicate older brother.

"And _I'm_ taking care of you," he said in reply, tightening the hug when his aniki just stood there in surprise, hands at his sides, looking supremely unsure and shell-shocked. Any other time, Yuuta might have laughed.

But that was before his aniki's expression morphed from depressed and hopeless to utterly, joyfully ecstatic. Yuuta never let himself notice before, he was too busy being jealous, but his aniki had a wonderful smile. When it wasn't fake or pretense, it was filled by a sort of raw happiness that warmed the heart of any who saw it.

His aniki returned the hug. "Ne, Yuuta," he said, his small head nuzzling against Yuuta's chest like a small kitten. "You were worried?"

Despite the blush that was halfway between mildly embarrassed and utterly embarrassed, he answered, "Yes, because you are an idiot."

Syusuke's returning smile was nostalgic and wise, making him look several centuries older than he really was. He didn't say anything, he just disentangled himself from Yuuta's embrace and moved towards the kitchen, gesturing for Yuuta to make himself comfortable.

Yuuta settled down on the place his brother had previously occupied, brushing away several crumpled papers. His brother was talking now, but Yuuta had learned long ago to just drown out his insensible, trying-for-casual-I'm-okay-don't-you-see chatter long ago. He picked up the nearest ball of paper beside him and carefully opened it.

_Tezuka,_

_Why do you do this to me? Can't you see_

And then it broke off abrubtly, and, Yuuta guessed, that was the time the paper was crumpled.

His fists clenched as he crumpled the paper again and reached for another one.

_Tezuka,_

_I don't know why, but I still love you, and you're only _

And another one.

_Tezuka,_

_Why are you making me hope for_

And another one.

_Tezuka,_

_Thank you for the flowers. The roses are beautiful, and thoughtful. I am pleased and flattered by your gift. Maybe we could_

And another, until he had opened almost all the papers that were scattered on the floor. Judging from the trash can, there were more of them. Yuuta opened the last one.

This time, unlike all the others that Yuuta had opened before it, the note had actually been finished. The writing was not very neat, and it was unlike his brother's elegant script, but he could tell that it had still been written by Syusuke.

He read the first sentence, and felt the warmth Syusuke's smile had brought draining away.

_Kunimitsu,_

_I love you._

And he only got colder and colder with each passing line.

_I never stopped. If you want to, if you'll have me, you can use me again. It's okay. As long as I still have a place in your life, it's okay. Just... keep me by your side, please, Kunimitsu. That's all I ask. _

_I can't... I can't live without you, please understand. I've tried, and I can't. It's like my only purpose in the world is to stand by your side. It doesn't matter that you don't love me. As long as you still see me, as long as I get to look at you and be with you, I'm happy. _

_Live your life, but please let me stay. All I ask is for you to allow this selfishness. I promise I won't ever be selfish ever again. _

_My heart belongs to you, Kunimitsu. It has always belonged to you. _

_I love you forever,_

_Syusuke _

...This was even worse than what he had imagined.

At some points, there were blotches where the ink of the pen his brother must have been using had run.

Teardrops.

Yuuta was going to break one of Tezuka's bones for every one. And he was going to double the number for every fucking sentence in the fucking note. And he was going to double it again for ever single fucking word that implied about how Tezuka thought his brother was some common whore.

The next time he saw that bastard again, he was a dead man.

His gaze once again gravitated to the vase of flowers standing tall and proud. It was the only thing out of place in the life Yuuta had carefully made sure Syusuke never strayed from.

These flowers were at fault. These flowers, and the person who had given them.

When Syusuke walked back towards the table, Yuuta was fingering them angrily. He stalked towards his brother and pulled the cups out of his hand setting them down with a clatter.

"Yuuta, that's-"

"Those flowers," he raged, not letting his brother finish, and pointing an accusatory finger towards the offending objects. "Those were the flowers he gave you?"

Syusuke didn't have to ask who _he_ was. They both knew, it was kind of glaringly obvious.

His brother sighed, and pulled up the damned smile again. "Yuuta," he said, and when it became clear that he was actually going to _defend_ the bastard, Yuuta did not let him finish.

"Burn them," he demanded furiously, Syusuke's words in the note repeating themselves over and over in his head.

(_You can use me again. It's okay._)

(_Just keep me by your side, please, Kunimitsu. That's all I ask._)

(_It doesn't matter that you don't love me._)

Goddamnit, his brother deserved so much better! What the hell did Syusuke think he was saying? It's okay to be _used_? It's _okay_ as long as he stayed by his side?

Of course it mattered that he didn't love Syusuke! It mattered a lot. Hell, it was what mattered the _most_!

Why couldn't his brother see that?

"Yuuta-"

"_Burn them_." He jerked his hand towards them again. "Then pack your things and we're getting the first flight home. I'll talk to Lelouch for you about sending someone else or whatever, I don't care, as long as I get you _out of here_."

But Syusuke only smiled placatingly. "It's okay, Yuuta. It's just for a few more days. I can handle it."

"Oh, like the way you handled it before?"

It was a cruel thing to say. In fact, Yuuta couldn't have said anything worse even if he tried. Syusuke flinched away from him almost automatically, hurt taking up every inch of his face. Yuuta would never have said it, and he didn't really intend to. But it popped out, and he was too angry to feel anything other than vindicated.

That was, until Syusuke's face hardened. "I'll handle it, Yuuta." He brushed Yuuta's hands away, walking towards the table, gathering his pile of crumpled papers.

"Don't worry," Syusuke went on, his smile almost, but not quite, wry. "I'm not suicidal, and I don't suppose I'll get any worse. Wasn't that what the doctors said?"

"They don't know about that bastard," Yuuta insisted, knowing almost instinctively that he was losing this argument. "I don't want you to die, aniki."

Syusuke's smile became softer, his eyes fluttering open. They were as haunted and empty as they had been before, but the affection and a sort of fondness shone through as he eyed Yuuta.

"I won't, Yuuta," he said gently. "I promise."

...Right. Hell if Yuuta believed him. But... he knew he'd lost this round.

"Fine," he ground out, stomping towards the door in a far fouler mood than he had been when he got here. "But if something happens, if anything happened to you at all, I'll gouge out a chunk of his heart myself."

He met Syusuke's broken blue eyes steadily as he opened the door.

"We'll see how _he_ likes it."

He slammed the door shut with a satisfying _bang_.

* * *

Clary: Um. Yes. We should have warned for cheesiness, but... Yes. Ohmygosh, I'm sorry this chapter sucked so much, falling down the stairs has a way of killing your creativity~~ Nooo~~~~~

Lia: -is still mad at Issa-

Clary: -ignoring Lia- The Yuuta falling bit was in honor of my own fall~ Yey~

Lia: Though it probably wasn't because he HOPPED down the stairs when people told him NOT to.

Clary: -still ignoring Lia- So, please do leave me a note and review~ I love to hear from you guys, it makes my day~ Remember: A review a day keeps the doctor (and writer's block) away~ Yey~

(PS: I'm excited for next chapter, even though I can't tell you guys why~ Look forward to it ne? –squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-)


	8. Verse 07

**OUR HEARTS GO OUT TO:**

Alatarielf: Naw, I'm okay. Lia was supermad, but she's okay, too~ And OHMYGOSH, thanks so much, your compliments are so touching, we want to cry~ (Clary actually really did cry) More flashbacks to come, don't worry~ Hope this one makes you happy too!

fujiyuki: We love Yuuta very much~ And yes, he loves his brother. You just feel it. Even in the anime, they have MOMENTS :) Here's more~

lemon-and-chai: Yep, Clary's fine! As for writing, it wasn't Clary writing so much as her yelling to Lia about every single sentence in the entire thing. It was fun and ugly at the same time :) Thanks so much for the well wishes~ And we agree with you, kitty!Yuuta is so cute~~~~~~~~

Trees of leaves: Uh-hum, Clary's okay~ And Lia's got her revenge, so she's okay, too~ And yes, Syu-chan's walls are breaking down pretty quickly (as with all things fragile), ne? Tezuka's sorta-reason can be sorta-found in this chappie, actually. Sorta :)

Seishirou Hitsugaya: It's totally fine! We hope your PC gets fixed, because we know all about how annoying it is when PCs break down. And Yuuta loves his aniki, even though he doesn't show it –nods- And for this chapter, well, something physical happens indeed :))

jerui: Awwe :") We were trying to convey those emotions, too! Ohmygosh, this is such a compliment~ Oh, and yes, flashbacks will come bit by bit. We hope we can close those holes as we go along, but feel free to ask, ne?

FujItachiHa: Thank you so much! We'll do our best, ne?

saya: YES. You can sum it up in one review~ Thank you so much! That means a lot to Clary~ ALOTALOT~ We'll do our best with Milly-chan, ne? But to tell you more would spoil the story, so it's himitsu for now, kay? ;)

bright snow: Awwwwwwweeee~ Thank you, thank you, thank you~ Um. So, Milly is from another anime, which we placed in here, because Clary wanted to ;) And we love Yuuta too~~ No, worries, Tezu-chan's here. He is SO in this chapter~ (On a side note, we think you are psychic~ You'll know why soon ;))

:)

Lia: I was remiss in my duties. I'm sorry. I forgot to remind Issa to tell you guys that we were starting uni, and thus, we have failed to update. I'm so, so, so, sorry for the delay.

Clary: I'm sorry, too. We hope we didn't keep you guys waiting. BUT ANYWAY. On to happier (sorta) stuff. WE STARTED UNI! And very happily, with great ideas about our future there. All honors courses seniors were like: "Welcome to hell. Abandon hope, all ye who enter." And isn't that just encouraging? (They were gonna put it on a poster, but they might get a demerit for insulting the school so they didn't. In a senior POV, it may be kinda funny. In a twisted way, like yeah, let's scare all the freshmen so we can be happy~)

Lia: It's... –sigh- I was going to say it's not that bad, but actually, it's as bad as she says.

Clary: It was lucky the torn ligaments in my ankle (I TORE LIGAMENTS! CAN YOU GUYS BELIEVE IT?) decided to get fixed, because if I had to navigate the campus with a screaming ankle, could you guys have imagined the pain?

Lia: Yes, Issa, they get it.

Clary: ANYWAY. This chapter didn't turn out as nicely as it did in my mind –SUPERPOUT- Waaaahhhh~ My SocSci professor is DEADLY, I swear. LASERS come out of her eyes. So, Lia and I think it's fair to...

**WARNINGS: **In this chapter, stuff happens. STUFF. Like, Clary tried her best to not overdo it very much, and Lia tried her best to tone the overdone parts down, because we're in the T-rating. ALSO. Clary has no talent with intimate moments. AT ALL. NO TALENT. 'Nuff said.

But we hope you guys enjoy the chapter anyway :)

* * *

It was raining.

Normally, Tezuka wouldn't have minded, and he didn't, it was just that today was the day before Atobe's birthday and heaven knew what tantrum he'd pull out when he found out that the sky had the gall to _rain_ on the day of His Majesty's own birthday itself.

And Tezuka really _didn't_ want to be around for that because Atobe would probably be wondering how much it cost to buy the sky. He sighed as the elevator doors opened to his floor and he trudged towards his office.

Had Tezuka been a person who was wont to give in to emotional urges, it would have been different. He would have been thinking how the heavens were crying when he couldn't, because he had long decided he had no right, no _anything_, really, to give in to tears.

...It had been his decision to chase Syusuke out of his life.

And even though he was back, he'd never be with Tezuka again.

And that was that.

The end (not the happy one Tezuka had stupidly imagined, but still the end).

His secretary was there, as per usual, ready with a steaming cup of bitter black coffee and a wide, friendly smile that was never returned. She was a homely girl, with hair so brown it could be black, and a pair of chocolate eyes. She worked hard and was every bit the obsessive perfectionist her boss was, which worked out well, because she would never have lasted with Tezuka if she wasn't.

Tezuka didn't know where Atobe found her, but he had mind enough to thank him for his thoughtfulness. Nishimura Izumi was one of the few people in this whole building that he could stand to be within a five-mile radius with, let alone have the girl work directly beyond his own office.

"Good morning, Tezuka-san," she greeted in a mild soprano, opening his office door for him with one hand (as she did every morning) while balancing Tezuka's cup of coffee with the other.

Tezuka gave a curt nod. "Nishimura-san."

The arrangement worked out quite well. They were friends of a sort, but they never crossed any boundaries. Of course, there was Atobe, who waltzed around the entire floor as he pleased, called her Izu-chan for kicks and flirted with her tremendously while she tried not to notice.

But that was because Atobe wanted to sleep with her.

"Oh," she exclaimed as she settled Tezuka's cup on his desk, pointing to a spare sheet of folded stationary Tezuka was sure he hadn't ever seen before. "And this came in for you yesterday, Tezuka-san. Just right at the time you had left for your dinner meeting, actually."

Which explained why Tezuka hadn't noticed it. The meeting had dragged on into the late hours of the night, as he had expected it to, so he had been prepared and cleared out his office work before then (and no, it had nothing to do with him trying to overwork himself so he won't have time to think about... things _at all_). Tezuka gave another curt nod right before his secretary closed the door softly behind her.

Tezuka fingered the paper curiously.

It was an expensive stationary, judging from the weight of the paper, and it was lined with the seal of what he knew to be a famous hotel at the heart of Tokyo. To his knowledge, no one he knew was currently staying there, or was planning to, considering that they had their own homes to stay in.

Maybe it was from another one of those offers, so something else equally-

He felt his brows furrowing as he read the first few lines. It was a happy thank you note, as far as he could tell, but the writing was as unfamiliar as the words.

What _flowers_? As far as he was concerned, the last person to ever receive flowers from him was his mother, and he'd given the bouquet to her face-to-face, and she'd happily cried and threw her arms around him in thanks.

That had been over a year ago.

And then his eyes locked into the signature at the bottom of the paper.

_Fuji Syusuke_

He felt something unpleasant settle at the bottom of his stomach. And it only got fouler as he read the last few words.

_As written by Milly Ashford_

Together, the whole signature said _Fuji Syusuke, as written by Milly Ashford_.

It was almost as if the whole universe had suddenly fell out from under him. He stumbled to his chair, feeling the strength drain out of his legs.

Sure, he'd seen the two of them together. Sure, he'd seen _her_ kissing _him_. Sure, she had been sitting in his lap, and he had taken to the arrangements with such familiarity and ease. Sure, Tezuka _knew_ in his head, and he knew it very well, that they were together. That they were going to get married. That she was the one who had every right to Syusuke now because Syusuke's ring rested on her goddamned finger. That she'd replaced his place in Syusuke's heart.

_Hadn't that been enough?_

Now he had a written proof in his hands that he had really been forgotten and looked over, that Syusuke had moved on, and that there was no more place for Tezuka in his life. Now he had written proof that the both of them were one unit, a team, sharing one existence.

Fiance and fiancee. And then later...

Husband and wife.

(_"Say, Mitsu, don't you think I'd look good as your wife?"_)

(Tezuka had wanted, _so damn badly_, to say _yes_.)

He read through the entire accursed note again, and by the time he read through the last line (_Fuji Syusuke, as written by Milly Ashford_), he was made of ice and ready to kill.

He didn't care that his office door erupted open with a loud, protesting _bang_, nor did he care about his secretary jumping up in surprise. He barely noticed his surroundings as he marched to the other side of the building towards the only person in the world who knew exactly what this was all about.

He threw the door open, feeling the urgent need to throttle Atobe Keigo to death, because maybe then he'd stop fooling around with Tezuka's life and mind his own _damned_ business.

Only to pause in the doorway, eyebrow twitching, as he assessed the scene before him.

Atobe glared at him from behind his table. "Can't you _knock_?"

Normally, Tezuka would have. But Atobe really had no right asking things from him when he did things _in Tezuka's name_ without asking Tezuka himself.

_Goddamnit_.

So because Tezuka was annoyed, he deliberately reached out a hand and rapped his knuckles against the opened door.

"I just did," he snapped, withdrawing his hand. "_Now,_ let's talk."

The girl (Atobe's flirting secretary) squirmed under Tezuka's sharp gaze from where she was sprawled all over her boss's table. Her black lacy bra was showing and the upper part of her blouse was unbuttoned, but Atobe's hand was covering the parts that Tezuka wouldn't really have cared to see. Her wrists were tied together with what appeared to be Atobe's tie.

It was not the ideal scene to be walking in on but Tezuka would be _damned_ before he let this atrocity slide just so Atobe could have his bit of morning office entertainment.

He sent _flowers_ to _Fuji_ in _Tezuka's name_ and only the devil knew what _bullshit_ he wrote there, and he expected Tezuka to be _happy_ about it? In what universe would Tezuka be the least bit _happy_ that Atobe was wooing his _ex-boyfriend_ (who was now, _by the way_, about to be happily _married_) behind his back in his _own name_?

It was taboo to even say _"I'll see you,"_ which he did in a rare moment of stupidity, but he was on the way to forgetting about that, and he suspected Fuji was, too, and then, _this happened_.

Damn it, Atobe _knew_ why Tezuka drove Fuji away, and Atobe _knew_ Tezuka was okay (or as okay as he ever was) with no Fuji in his life, and Tezuka had made it _this_ far, Atobe had _no business_ ruining everything.

Fuji was damned happy where he was, and so was Tezuka.

And _damn it_, that was the truth (lie).

"Don't be a smartass," Atobe said, obviously displeased, as he straightened up from where he was crouched over his woman, not even attempting to fix his appearance.

"I'll do that," Tezuka said icily. "So now, let's talk."

Atobe's lips stretched into a smirk. "No offense, Tezuka, but ore-sama is busy right now, so why don't you just go away?" He made a little shooing motion with his hands.

...He was trying Tezuka's already very thin patience. Tezuka felt his eyes narrow dangerously. "I have more important business with you right now, Atobe," he said warningly, his hands clenching around the note. "And I'm about _this_ close to strangling you. So if you don't want me to, _get the chit out and let's talk_."

Atobe assessed his face, and very smartly, chased the girl out his office.

When the door closed behind her, Atobe raised an annoyed brow. "Well?"

Tezuka shoved the note under the man's nose none too gently. "Read it."

"How does-"

"_Read it_."

"This says here that your beloved Fuji is thanking you for your _thoughtful_ bouquet," Atobe drawled. "Ore-sama hardly sees what it has to do with him."

The smirk said it all. Tezuka wanted to wipe that smirk off of Atobe's arrogant face and heaven only knew how he managed to restrain himself.

"I didn't send him flowers," Tezuka ground out. "You did."

"Actually," Atobe said, still smirking. "Tezuka Kunimitsu ordered the bouquet from the flower shop. It's even written in their records."

Atobe paused, examining the note once again. "Last time ore-sama checked, _you're_ Tezuka Kunimitsu."

"Don't _fuck_ with me, Atobe," Tezuka drew himself to his full height, his blood boiling inside, his vision turning red. He was _so _angry, so damn angry, he really, genuinely wanted Atobe dead. His fists were shaking in his sides, ready to lash out. "Why did you do it?"

Atobe looked at him calmly, his smug, smug smile growing bigger. "Ore-sama will take that as a 'thank you.'"

Tezuka had half a mind to punch him. No, scratch that. Tezuka _wanted_ to punch him. He wanted to see what a shocked expression would look like on that damned smug face. He wanted to _break_ something, preferably Atobe's nose, just because he was so damn angry, he wanted to cry (_he wanted to cry!_).

"_Damn you_," he said between long breaths.

Atobe was unfazed. "Don't mention it," he waved the stationary in front of Tezuka's face carelessly.

How did Fuji react to the flowers, he wondered, even though Fuji so obviously didn't care. He hated himself for hoping Fuji would have felt _something_ just because those flowers had been given to him in Tezuka's name. He hated himself for hoping he still meant the smallest bit of something to Fuji that he'd have gotten something else other than a thank you note written by Fuji's _fiancee_.

He hated himself for wondering in the first place.

"Keep your nose away from affairs that don't concern you, Atobe," he said with not as much bite as he would have liked.

At that, Atobes face morphed from smug and arrogant to something else Tezuka would rather not recognize. "You know I can't just-"

"_Learn_," Tezuka demanded, stalking off, suddenly feeling tired and world-weary.

Maybe, if he took on enough work, he'd be tired enough that he could forget. Maybe he'd be tired enough that when he got home, he wouldn't spend so many hours feeling the emptiness before he fell asleep. Maybe he'd be tired enough that he'd stopped dreaming of irrational, impossible things for once.

Maybe. (He'd tried, and that frankly never worked. It just meant he was tired and groggy when he got to work the next day. And depressed, as well. Best not forget _that_.)

He lifted his head to bark out orders to his secretary and then his entire world stopped.

And once again, everything narrowed down, everything was cut off until there was only him and Syusuke, who was sitting on the couch in front of his office.

To others, he would have appeared to be smiling calmly, but in Tezuka's eyes, he looked terribly uncomfortable, yet still so agonizingly _beautiful_.

"Syusuke." The name escaped his lips in a breath that he couldn't have helped if he tried.

His smiling glance drifted to Tezuka's own, and Tezuka felt the ache again, the _need_ to hold him, to feel him, to have him in his arms.

"Tezuka," he replied, giving firm emphasis on Tezuka's name. Tezuka knew what that meant, and his heart twisted painfully in his chest.

"Can we talk?"

* * *

**THE MELODY OF TWO HEARTS**

**Verse 07**

_**Because I know down inside you are mine and I'm your true love**_

* * *

Fuji did say he would handle it.

And he was.

He helped Milly write the note, contributing as much as she did, and maybe even more. And then, he dropped it off himself, even though he technically cheated, and peeked at the schedule Milly had demanded off of their secretaries so he could give it at a time when he didn't have to see Tezuka.

And then, today, he outright lied to Milly, and went off to Tezuka so they could talk, and stop awkwardly dancing around each other, and have closure so when he returned to America, he'd finally, _finally_, start moving on.

He was handling it.

Yes. He was. He was handling being in the same room with Tezuka (_alone! _In the same room. With Tezuka. Alone. With Tezuka. In the same room.) even though when Tezuka closed the door behind them, he was gripped by the strongest urge to run away and never come back.

But he didn't, so that was good right? He was handling it. (_He was alone in the same room with Tezuka_.)

Tezuka sat behind his desk, and he sat on the chair in front of it. (_He was alone in the same room with Tezuka_.) The chair was comfortable, kind of like the chairs in his office back home. (_He was alone in the same room with Tezuka_.) And the entire room reeked _Tezuka_, his smell, his presence, almost hanging over Fuji's head oppresively. (_He was alone in the same room with Tezuka_.)

...Okay, so maybe he wasn't handling it.

But he couldn't help it. He was trying to be strong, but Tezuka was just _too close_. Even if Tezuka crossed the room, or the entire length of this floor, he would _still_ be too close. Fuji would still be aware of him, Fuji would still feel his presence, like something at the back of his head that told him just exactly where Tezuka was.

Tezuka's eyes were watchful, and intense, the way they had been when Fuji first realized he had fallen in love. Fuji's skin prickled under it, and it got harder and harder to breathe, because his body remembered that gaze, remembered how it was a long time ago, when that gaze told Fuji that Tezuka loved him, when Tezuka himself didn't.

This was not a good idea. What had _possessed_ him into thinking this was a good idea? Being alone in the same room with _Tezuka_ had _never (ever, ever, ever_) been a good idea, not before, and certainly not now. Because Tezuka's gaze and Tezuka's presence and the _effect_ Tezuka had on him only served to remind him just how much he was still very much in love with him.

Damn it.

Tezuka cleared his throat, levelling Fuji with a gaze that sent the butterflies in his stomach fluttering.

Right. Closure.

That's all he came here for is closure. He was going to be strong, and he certainly wasn't going to beg Tezuka to take him back. Tezuka was happy without him, and so was he (lie).

But when he opened his mouth, his voice was hoarse and his words came together in disjointed sentences. "Thank you. For the... For the flowers. Thank you for the flowers. They were... They were lovely."

He tried not to wince. Instead, he let out a long breath and berated himself for sounding so weak.

He turned his head to face Tezuka (because _damn it_, he was going to be strong) only to jerk back a little at his forbidding gaze.

He looked... very angry.

"I didn't send them," he said in a tone that allowed for no arguments. It was that same tone he used when he'd had enough of the tennis team's antics and was about to order them laps until he was sufficiently satisfied.

Fuji felt what parts of himself he'd salvaged breaking once again.

He should have expected that. Of course, Tezuka wouldn't send him flowers. What kind of rich, sought-after bachelor sends his concubines flowers? After all, that was all Fuji had ever been and would ever be to Tezuka.

(_"You mean I was just your whore?"_)

His whore. His whore who happened to play good tennis that was needed to be able to win the Nationals.

Rich, sought-after bachelors didn't love their whores. They didn't give them gifts, or flowers, or pearls. They don't really care for them, or smile for them, or give them rings to symbolize their 'love.' They certainly don't promise them forever.

Rich, sought-after bachelors used their whores.

And then, when they grew tired and had enough, they threw them away.

Simple logic.

And yet, Fuji had been stupid enough to assume that Tezuka had been the one to send him roses, when Tezuka shouldn't have been bothered. Fuji should have been the very first person smart enough to know that Tezuka would never have cared. Fuji shouldn't have assumed wrongly, and shouldn't have bothered Tezuka with his worthless, petty thank you note, and his worthless, petty gratitude that Tezuka clearly didn't appreciate.

No wonder Tezuka was angry.

"I see," he said weakly, swallowing the urge to cry. But he averted his gaze, and stared at his lap, no longer strong enough to look Tezuka in the eye. It was only right.

They weren't equals, after all.

Tezuka was the sky and Fuji was...

Well, Fuji was his whore.

And the only thing Fuji could do (and _would do_ all his life) was look at the sky, wishing he could reach it, but knowing at the bottom of his heart that he never could.

It was too late to hope for anything now, not even closure. It would never have worked. Nothing would have worked. Not between the sky and the sky's whore. _Especially_ not between those two. That would have only been an exercise in futility.

"Of course," Fuji said, trying to make his tone bright. "I knew it."

He threw a smile towards Tezuka, seeing him, but not really, because it was too painful to really look at him and fall in love all over again.

Tezuka's brows furrowed. He seemed to be realizing something, though what, Fuji didn't know. It probably wasn't about him, anyway. He wasn't important enough to be thought of.

"No, Fuji," Tezuka said, his voice laced with alarm. "That's not what I meant."

Oh, but Fuji understood what Tezuka meant. He, of all people, should know.

He understood perfectly. Even though his world was crumbling and falling in on itself all over again, he understood perfectly.

"No, it's okay, Tezuka," he said, still trying to be monumentally happy, despite the tears now building up behind his eyelids. "I understand."

"Fuji, I meant that Atobe-"

"Sent it?" Oh, so _Atobe_ did it. In Tezuka's name. "I thought as much."

It figures, considering Atobe was too blinded by the _weirdest_ notion that Tezuka was in love with him to see the truth. How did he get that idea, Fuji wondered. It wasn't as if Tezuka had ever actually _cared_.

Atobe must have had a brilliant imagination, to be able to see something that was never there.

Like Fuji.

Tezuka made a frustrated sound at the back of his throat. He must think that Fuji still thought that Tezuka cared for him. He didn't have to worry, really, Fuji was never going to bother him with these things ever again.

He squeezed his eyes closer together so his tears wouldn't fall.

"Fuji, listen to me." Tezuka's tone was firm, but before he could say anything else, and hurt Fuji even more, before Fuji could cry in front of him and become even more pathetic in his eyes, Fuji cut him off.

"Tezuka, it's really okay." His hands were trembling in his lap. "I get it." It was so, so hard to keep up his mask now, but he had to. He just _had_ to. "I'll just..." _keep on loving you_. "Go. But, before I do, can I please ask you for just one favor?"

"Fuji..."

Fuji refused to meet Tezuka's gaze. He can't. Anymore. He can't see Tezuka and be strong at the same time. That was just asking for too much.

And it was too much Fuji couldn't give.

He knew it. He wasn't strong enough to be with Tezuka, after all. Not like this. Not everyday.

It would kill him.

"Please, Tezuka..." _love me. _"Stay away from my life."

./.

Tezuka felt like he had been socked in his gut well and good. He physically drew back from where he had been standing up, trying to shake some sense into Fuji, trying to tell him that he wasn't mad, not at _Fuji_.

He couldn't breathe, and even though he tried, he suddenly wasn't sure he remembered how to.

"_Stay away from my life."_

(_"Let's stay together from now on, okay? Now, and tomorrow, and every single day of the rest of our lives."_)

Fuji was smiling, but it was a brittle smile, one that hurt Tezuka even more than it should have, because he was the reason Fuji was this unhappy. Why his smile was so empty and painfully hollow.

It had been for Fuji's own good. It had _all_ been for his own good, Tezuka had thought he was saving Fuji.

(_"If he's going to die because he loves you..."_)

"Well, Tezuka, this was a good talk," Fuji said, in the same breathy, _hurt_ voice he had been using ever since they had entered his room. "I won't take up any more of your time."

And then he was leaving, walking away, for probably the last time in Tezuka's life. He wasn't ever going to come back, and the last of Tezuka's hopes that he could take Fuji back again would wither away along with his ability to love.

Because he would never love anyone else the way he did Fuji.

The way he always will.

(_"...Then, he deserves more than just your half-assed feelings!"_)

Tezuka felt something inside him snap. Abruptly, he stood up, crossing the room in long strides, making it to the door just when Fuji was reaching out for it. He reached out and slammed his hand against the frame, just a few inches near Fuji's head, causing Fuji to jump slightly.

Tezuka's entire arm tingled at the almost-contact.

Fuji turned around slowly, but not before he ran his hand across his face, wiping away the tears that had fallen, Tezuka knew. Something else inside him cracked.

"Tezuka, please take your hand away," Fuji pleaded, his entire face downcast.

Tezuka kept his hand where it was, and he raised the other one to grip Fuji's chin, gently tilting it upwards.

Fuji still refused to look at him.

"Syusuke," he called, his voice thick. "Look at me."

And Fuji did, his eyes fluttering open to reveal the glittering cerulean Tezuka had always loved. Fuji never did know just how much his eyes could affect Tezuka. It was like someone had cut a piece of the sky so it could be captured in his eyes, the call of a siren whose song made Tezuka forget about _everything_. Unconsciously, Tezuka's hand trailed up Fuji's face, his thumb caressing the skin beneath those beautiful, beautiful eyes.

And Tezuka could have never said at what moment he knew he was going to kiss Fuji.

Up until this last moment, he had convinced himself that he was only taking care of Fuji. Even if they were no longer together, it didn't mean Tezuka was just going to let Fuji belittle himself like that. Fuji was so much more than what he thought he was, _so much more_.

To Tezuka, he was _everything_.

And up until the last moment, he had convinced himself that he had not let Fuji out, that he had followed Fuji, so Fuji would _understand_ that he was worth everything and more.

But then something happened, or perhaps it had been happening all along, ever since Fuji had met him outside a few moments ago and asked to talk. Yes, perhaps it had, and Tezuka never knew, because it was something he could only _feel_.

He found himself drawing closer, and closer still, enticed by Fuji's eyes, that were several shades of blue, with tendrils of silver floating in their depths. Fuji probably didn't know about it, but Tezuka had spent much time simply looking at them, drowning in them with a bliss that he could never have found anywhere else. And now they glowed like they never had before, as Fuji's mouth parted, as if he was trying to find a way to breathe.

And then suddenly, Tezuka couldn't take his eyes off of him.

The hand propped up against the door drifted down to curve around the trim, lithe waist, pulling Fuji closer, needing him closer still, until Fuji's body was pressed against his, molded against his, a perfect fit against his own.

He wanted Fuji. He _needed_ Fuji.

He needed Fuji _so much_, it terrified him.

So his head dropped down to press a quick kiss to Fuji's lips, as natural as if the fifteen years hadn't passed, as if they were fourteen and in love with nothing between them once again.

And then, he drew away, trying to remember, once again, how to breathe. He was so overcome with desire, he shuddered against Fuji, not allowing their faces to separate for more than a few inches. And even then he felt as if they were a few inches too far apart.

The surprise in Fuji's eyes was palpable. But when Tezuka drew away, something sparked in their depths, and he raised his arms, gripping the clothing around Tezuka's back tightly.

"No!" he cried, his eyes filling once again with tears.

Tezuka wasn't sure if he meant, _"No, stop it!"_ or if he meant _"No, don't stop!"_ but at that moment, Tezuka didn't care.

Fuji had never known, nor will he ever know just how much of a temptation he was to Tezuka. How much that one single word invited Tezuka to do so much, to want so much, to _need_ so much.

He never knew just how much a temptation he was offering bringing his arms around Tezuka like this, his body pressing against Tezuka's like it had when they had been young.

Tezuka was drunk at the very sight of him, intoxicated with his very smell, and he _needed_ to be closer, he _needed_ to feel Fuji.

God knew how much he'd dreamed, how many times he woke up, half-thinking that Fuji was beside him once again. He'd dreamed so much, wished so much that Fuji would come back to him so he could love Fuji once again.

And now... And now he had Fuji once again in his arms, gripping him tightly, not wanting to let go. And Tezuka forgot everything except for the _need_ to _be_ with Fuji, to hold him once again, and feel his lips against Tezuka's own.

He needed it so much.

His hand buried itself into Fuji's silky hair, so smooth, like he remembered. He leaned down once again until their foreheads met, feeling Fuji's breath against his lips, and maybe Fuji was saying something, murmuring, _"Please,"_ against his lips, tugging his shirt to pull him closer, telling him he wanted this just as much as Tezuka did.

They both wanted it.

And so everything was simple.

When his lips covered Fuji's once again, he was not gentle. He was too caught up in passion, in the heat and the feel of Fuji against him to _remember_ gentleness.

This kiss... This was to erase the kiss he saw the first time he met Fuji again. This was to erase every trace of Milly's lips against Fuji's, to mark Fuji again as his own, so Fuji would know for sure, and so he wouldn't forget just how much Tezuka still loved him.

And Tezuka loved him so very much, so very, very much.

They pulled away, panting and out of breath, but Tezuka didn't stop. He couldn't _bear_ being away from Fuji, and he peppered the heart-shaped face with kisses, until he drifted down to Fuji's neck, suckling at the juncture of where Fuji's neck met his shoulder.

Fuji was giving little gasps, and beautiful whimpers, sounds he missed so, so much.

"Syusuke," he murmured against the intoxicating heat of Fuji's skin. "My Syusuke."

And Fuji's head bent down to nuzzle against his hair. "Kunimitsu," he responded ardently, pulling himself tighter, closer. "It's strange," he whispered. "Hearing you say that... makes me feel so good."

Tezuka smiled, his hands gripping either side of Syusuke's shirt, forcibly pulling them apart. He heard the buttons pop, but he didn't care, too entranced by the heat rising from Fuji's skin to mind anything else.

Fuji gave a little gasp, as Tezuka started nipping again. His hands went beneath the ruined shirt, the contact of skin-on-skin feeling deliciously good. Where he touched, Fuji's skin gave little shivers that were decidedly enticing, alluringly inviting, and that fueled Tezuka's desire even more.

"Say my name," he urged, as Fuji's knees buckled, his hands drifting down to grip the slender thighs. He wanted to hear it, needed to know that it was _him_ Fuji was truly with right now, that Fuji was _his_ completely, at this moment, mind and body, heart and soul. He needed to know that Milly Ashford was gone, that everything else was gone, that Fuji wasn't thinking of _anyone else_ apart from him.

God, he needed it _so much_.

"Oh, _Kunimitsu_," Fuji sighed, in a way that only made Tezuka want for more, with a ferocity that frightened even him.

There were tears again, crystals trailing down his face, and Tezuka straightened up to kiss them away, before his lips once again covered Fuji's own.

And Fuji was so pliant, responding to his every move in kind, like everything he had ever dreamed, and so, so much more.

And then...

He said it. The "_I love you_," murmured heatedly against Fuji's lips, wanting Fuji to _know_, wanting Fuji to feel it with his every touch, with his every kiss, as they pressed against each other like this.

His mistake.

./.

To his dying day he would never know how, but Fuji stepped away from Kunimitsu.

The words cut through his warm haze like a the painful burst of pain from a knife deeply embedded in his heart. And Fuji found himself backing away.

It was only a short distance from where they were standing, to the door, but it was enough so the cool office air wrapped around his heated body. His hands hurriedly tried to fix what he could of his shirt.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

_This was not supposed to happen_.

Tezuka was not supposed to want him like this again, not supposed to be giving him false hope that he could love Fuji and want Fuji ever again. Tezuka was not supposed to _say_ that, because people like him can't love people like Fuji.

Fuji can't _hope_ again, because he'd only get hurt.

"Syusuke," Tezuka called, with the same husky need that had Fuji shivering. But he can't do this.

_He can't_.

It would only hurt too much when Tezuka threw him away again. And maybe then, he wouldn't be able to patch himself back together.

His phone vibrated in his pocket, before the muffled whale-noise audio that was Milly's chosen embarassing ringtone of the week filled the silence between them.

His hands clenched into fists and he burst through Tezuka's door, sprinting down the hall towards the elevator, pushing the button frantically, wanting the elevator to come up faster, hoping against hope Tezuka would come after him. Would call for him and envelop him in warmth, and tell him he loved Fuji over and over until Fuji had no choice but to believe it.

He hated himself for wanting it, but he wished it all the same.

The elevator doors slid open...

And Tezuka's doorway remained shadowed and empty.

Fuji couldn't get away fast enough.

When he reached the ground floor, he didn't even wait until the doors were fully open. He shoved past the people, bursting into the pouring rain of the sidewalk.

It was so cold, and it only took a few seconds for the raindrops to soak him to the bones. They drifted down his body like little caressing fingers, gentle yet rough, making him forget everything, apart from the sensation of cold he was currently feeling.

They drifted down his face, too, leaving cold, cold trails that were erased as soon as they were formed.

That's right.

He wasn't shedding any tears, it was just the raindrops falling.

He wasn't crying.

He wasn't crying at all.

* * *

Clary: SO... Okay, yeah, I know, I'm sorry. This sucks. It SOUNDED SO NICE IN MY HEAD, I swear.

Lia: At any rate, neither of us know when we can update again. We'll do or best to get a chapter in at least once a month but... Well, we'll do everything we can.

Clary: My schedule is DEATH. And Lia's schedule, let's not even talk about, because it is HELL ON EARTH. Apparently, signing up for honors courses is signing up for the zombie apocalypse or something, it's THAT scary. ESPECIALLY, apparently, if you were headed for med school.

Lia: ...What Issa means (and is over-exxagerating about) is that we have not much to say about free time. And she also wants to join this org so who am I to stop her?

Clary: It will be my only HAPPINESS. Waaaaaahhhhhh~~~~~~

So please review, kay? We need all the encouragement and happiness we can get :)


	9. Verse 08

**OUR HEARTS GO OUT TO:**

Alatarielf: AWWWEEEEE. Thanks so much! We are trying our bestest, so thank you for all the encouragements, they help a lot~~! We hope your heart is okay... That makes us feel bad because too many hearts are damaged in this story already...

fujiyuki: The ankle's fine :) No, fujiyuki's heart, don't give up! You can do it~~~~ Here's the next chapter, so we hope you enjoy :)

lemon-and-chai: Aw... But we don't think you're terrible~~ And even if you are, then we're terrible, too, because we made this in the first place, so we can be terrible together~~ And yes, torn ligaments are not fun.

CranberryChocolate: Um. We're sorry?

animangadeek0624: We don't think you're a bad reader ^^ YES. Tezu-chan and Syu-chan are idiots... But we love their idiot-ness, lol. And... well, we hope you like this chapter anyway... :)

moribayashi: Thank you, thank you! BUT... We can't tell you anything without giving anything away so... We're sorry! Um. Well, it might be safe to say that the things that happened were not Yuuta's intention... But we'll just let you see for yourself, ne? :)

zAza. eL. mikA: We're glad your laptop's fine :) And don't worry, you'll gradually know~ :) We like people having speculations~ We do it all the time~ Weeee~ And we like squealing and fangirling so let's squeal and fangirl togethaaaa~

:)

Clary: ... I don't think I have anything to say except that I hope (PLEASE GOD) that you guys enjoy this chapter...

* * *

_Yuuta left the house in a huff, the door slamming in his wake. Tezuka traced the same footsteps in a sort of daze, locking the door, and checking once again just in case. Then, he leaned against the hard wood, looked around the house, and tried to imagine his life without Syusuke._

_How was he going to do it?_

_Everywhere he looked (in his own house!), he could see Syusuke. _

_He could see Syusuke in that couch in the living room, where one night when they were in second year, Syusuke's head fell on his shoulder because he had been too exhausted to stay awake studying. Tezuka had wrapped an arm around the svelte waist, and told himself that he was just doing it so they could both be comfortable, knowing it wasn't quite true because his heart had been beating wildly in his chest._

_He could see Syusuke in the counter in the kitchen where Syusuke liked to sit and 'help' him wash the dishes, by becoming his 'added incentive.' A kiss for every cleaned dish. _

_He could see Syusuke on the stairs where he'd first looked up to the landing to find Syusuke posing and modelling Tezuka's own clothes. They were too big for him, but the fact that the shirt had fallen off of one shoulder to reveal a tantalizing view of smooth, creamy skin made Tezuka decide that he liked seeing Syusuke parading around in his clothes._

_He could see Syusuke in the entrance hallway, in the dining room, in the cupboards, he could even see Syusuke in the damned coat rack._

_Syusuke was everywhere. _

_In every corner of every room of every floor of this house, Syusuke was there. _

_Tezuka couldn't live without him, he just couldn't._

_He couldn't._

_So he went through the motions of his everyday life in the same thoughtless daze that he had been in ever since Fuji Yuuta had told him that he was the reason why Syusuke wanted to die. _

_And he found himself wandering the streets, stopping by a familiar house, walking up to the familiar doorstep, ringing the familiar bell. When Syusuke opened the door, Tezuka grabbed him and crushed him to his chest._

You can't die_, he thought so strongly, he was sure Syusuke could hear it. _You can't_._

"_Kunimitsu?" Syusuke questioned, his voice muffled against the clothing of Tezuka's chest. _

_Tezuka's entire being screamed, _I don't want you to die, _but he merely tightened his hold, and murmured an "I love you," to Syusuke's hair. He could smell the scents Syusuke wore almost as perfumes, a hint of vanilla and apple and something else he couldn't quite describe, but was so very familiar, and so very Syusuke. _

_He imagined how he could spend the rest of his life without them, and knew that he wouldn't be able to._

"_Me too," Syusuke nuzzled his head against him, almost-purring, and content as a kitten. "Ne, Kunimitsu, no one's home. Wanna take this inside?"_

_Tezuka let go, and gave him a soft peck on the forehead, starting to smile as he was dragged quickly inside, the door closing behind them both..._

_...only to have the smile freeze on his face once he was met with the scene inside the house._

_The Fuji house had always been warm. Lonely at times, but always warm. Perhaps it was Fuji-san's motherly aura that hung protectively around the home she had built with her husband, or Yumiko-san's teasing presence, or maybe even the complicated love-hate complex between the two brothers of the house. It could be a lot of things, but whatever it was, the warmth was a comforting, constant atmosphere that made the house a home._

_But today, the entire house felt cold, almost stifling in its stillness._

_Moving boxes were piled neatly at the sides, and it did not seem at all like the Fuji house Tezuka knew anymore. It was as if someone had erased away all the colors of a particularly bright painting until nothing but blankness was left behind._

"_Syusuke...?"_

_But Syusuke only smiled up at him, completely calm, unbaffled and carefully fake. "Oh, don't mind those. They're nothing."_

_They didn't _look_ like nothing. "You're moving," he said flatly, the words even more bitter on his tongue than they were, when they had been merely thoughts. Yuuta _had_ said something about that, hadn't he? _

_He had, Tezuka had been just too winded by the fact that he was killing Syusuke to really take that in._

"They're_ moving," Syusuke corrected, his hand tight around Tezuka's arm as he led him up to his room. "I'm staying." A teasing smile lit up his face, a grotesque contrast to the despairing atmosphere that cloyed the very air in the house._

"_Say, if I can't find an apartment," Syusuke asked, looking thoughtful. "You'll let me sleep with you, riiiight?" He drawled out the last word for extra teasing emphasis and despite the uneasy feeling in his stomach, Tezuka couldn't suppress the flush that spread across his cheeks._

"_Syusuke," he said warningly, letting his little lover pull him into the room. _

"_Hmm?" Syusuke hummed, still smiling. "You have to admit it was a legitimate question." He gave a mock-innocent gasp. "Or do you mean to say that you'll let poor, little me out in the open for perverts to see?" Syusuke hugged his arms around himself, and pouted, looking both adorable and sexy at exactly the same time. _

_Tezuka's face twitched and he sighed. "You're the pervert, Syusuke," he informed him. "_They_ should be afraid of _you_."_

_Syusuke answered with a laugh. "Ah, but you know me so well," he sang happily, as he bounced towards his bed, patting the spot beside him invitingly._

_...This was probably the only room in the whole house that had remained as it had been the last time Tezuka had seen it. There were boxes piled near the door, but they were open and empty, though they were obviously meant to hold the belongings in this room._

_("You and I both know he's not gonna leave.")_

_This time, Tezuka couldn't quite hide away from the twinge in his heart._

_Syusuke noticed his glance, and his smile let up for just one moment, so Tezuka could see exactly how unsettled he really was about everything (and exactly how scared). Tezuka wanted to sooth it all away, to wrap his arms around him and protect him from everything that could bring him harm, to love him, and make everything okay because of the sheer force of that love._

_Even in his head, it sounded so, so stupid._

_And besides..._

_("...He's going to die because he loves you...!")_

_And his whole body froze on the act of trying to reach out, and the entire moment ended. Syusuke was smiling once again, and it wasn't strained or forced, but it wasn't particularly happy either. _

"_Come on, Kunimitsu," he urged, patting the spot once again. "I'm watching a movie, see?"_

_It was only then that Tezuka noticed the TV screen, paused on an image of a sinking ship. He remembered that movie, perhaps he had even seen it in passing once or twice, but that was it. _

_All he really knew was that the male lead dies. _

_Tezuka sat beside Syusuke, robotically, and stiffly watched as the last few scenes of the movie played on. In his head, it was Syusuke who was falling, Syusuke who was dying, Syusuke who fell and died, Syusuke who... who..._

"_I don't want you to die," he blurted out, feeling Syusuke tense as the intense blue gaze pinned him where he sat._

"_What are you talking about, Kunimitsu?"_

_Tezuka didn't know. Tezuka really didn't know anymore. A few hours ago, everything was still normal, and as fine as it could ever be, and then things happened, and Tezuka was made aware of more things and they were starting to tear at him from the inside-out._

_Tezuka was talking about Syusuke and things he already knew but wanted to hear out of _Syusuke's_ own mouth anyway, and "He's going to throw away his own life for you!"_

_But none of the words made it past the lump on his throat. He glanced at the screen, and gestured towards the old lady, paused in the act of telling her story to the people who sat before her in rapture._

"_I wouldn't want you to die, either," he said, meeting Syusuke's eyes, watching them take on that soft look that suited him so much._

"_Ne, Kunimitsu, if I would have to make a choice in a situation like that," his hand pressed up on the place above Tezuka's heart. "I would stay."_

_He was telling Tezuka what Tezuka had known all along, what Yuuta came to yell at him about, what his choice had been, and will always be. Because he _loved_. And Tezuka wanted to smile and draw Syusuke into his arms, but his heart, and everything else ached too much._

"_You would die," he said, his entire being rejecting the words, screaming, 'No!' because a world without Syusuke was no world at all._

_Syusuke's smile was soft, but because Tezuka knew, it was more resigned than anything else. "I know."_

"_Syusuke-"_

_Syusuke cut him off before he could start, his fingers caressing, his face firm with a decisive stubborness that Tezuka had once loved about him. "There is more to life than not dying."_

_His hand fell away, landing on Tezuka's lap. When Tezuka sought for them, Syusuke did not meet his eyes, his gaze strangely far-away. Tezuka, for the first time in a long time, did not know what he was thinking, and did not know what to think, himself._

"_There is happiness, and tenderness, and love," Syusuke's head fell against Tezuka's arm. "There is love," he repeated. "And I am not going to miss any of those things just because I am afraid of death."_

_("...He's going to die because he loves you...!")_

_No more Syusuke. The world will have no more Syusuke, because Syusuke is choosing to destroy himself because of his love._

_Syusuke was going to die. _

_And he was going to die because he loved Tezuka._

_("I've _always_ known that you'd be the death of him.")_

"_Syusu-"_

"_And if," Syusuke continued, still with the same firm and resolute, but resigned kind of voice. "And if I had done nothing else that would make my life matter then at least..." He raised his head then, meeting Tezuka's eyes, his hand coming up to cup Tezuka's cheek. _

"_At least I have you, Kunimitsu," he said, his voice full of love. His smile was gentle and content. "If I had done nothing else that would make my life matter, then at least I have loved you with every breath of my life."_

_The tears burned, because it was all Tezuka wanted to do was cry. Syusuke didn't know, he didn't _know_ how much it hurt to hear him say those words, how much it hurt to sit here and take it, how much it hurt that Syusuke was telling him how Syusuke _knew_ that his love for Tezuka would kill him, but that he was choosing it, anyway._

_He shouldn't. He _shouldn't_._

"_Saa," Syusuke said, his smile morphing to teasing once again. "But we'd have to get married first, okay? I won't forgive you if I won't get my chance to be a blushing bride, so you better have a ring ready!"_

_He leaned closer, his eyes wide, blue, and so painfully beautiful. "Say Mitsu, don't you think I'd look good as your wife?"_

_Tezuka wanted, _so damn badly_, to say _yes_. But the price Syusuke would have to pay for it... The price Syusuke would have to pay to be able to become that was his own _life_._

_It was a price Tezuka did not want Syusuke to pay._

_He leaned forwards, closing the distance between them, capturing Syusuke's lips in a fierce, brutal kiss. His arms shot up to wrap around his beloved's body, his entire being tingling at the warmth that being with Syusuke like this made him feel._

_Just one more, one last time. Tezuka was going to make these precious moments last him a lifetime. He was going to make it count, he was going to make it the best memory ever. He was going to drink in every moan, and he was going to burn the image of Syusuke's face filled with pleasure and love into the back of his mind so it would last until forever._

_Because after this moment, Syusuke would be gone._

_Syusuke would be gone, because Tezuka's love was going to kill him._

* * *

**THE MELODY OF TWO HEARTS**

**Verse 08**

_**Or am I dreaming?**_

* * *

Fuji ran. He didn't know where, but it was something to do. The rain was still falling, the sky roaring above his head, and it must have been cold.

Must have been, because the only thing he could _really_ feel was nothing.

After all, that was what happened when you freeze. The cold will spread, slowly, painfully, creeping its way past every defense your body might have erected until its cloying caress moves up to the core of your very being.

You would be cold for a while, but only for a while, because soon, the cold will rob you even of feeling. Then you'd be numb.

And all you'd ever be left with is emptiness.

Not that Fuji ever had anything else. It was all he'd ever had, all he'd ever lived with, and it was all he'd ever get.

_Nothing_.

And he didn't understand why some strange part of him wanted to believe otherwise. Why that part was so fixated on the lie that Tezuka would come back, that Tezuka would run after him, that Tezuka could find it in his heart to love him. It was irrational and awful and so very untrue.

And it _hurt_. It hurt so much to believe in the happiness that could never be and the love that could never be reciprocated. The dream was too sweet, too happy that the happiness became a sort of pain, and it only hurt even more when he snapped back to reality, and realized that it was all nothing but a combination of an overactive imagination and wishful thinking.

Sometimes, when Fuji dreamt, he would feel his broken heart start to piece itself back together, and he would start to feel some of the warmth he had thought he lost forever creeping back, freeing his locked bones, his weary muscles, his pained heart.

Perhaps, in his sleep, dreaming of things he dared not wish for when he had control over his thought processes, he had found the strength to smile for real once again. He knew he had never done it, ever since Tezuka had told him the truth, ever since they had broken up, because he had never found a reason to. A smile like that would have felt foreign in his coherent state, mostly because he had never quite managed to relearn how to.

It felt so much less painful to pretend. Pretend for Yuuta, pretend for Milly, pretend for the rest of the student council, pretend for the rest of the school, pretend for the rest of the whole world.

And pretend for himself. Because no matter what he did, there was nothing that quelled the pain more than him telling himself that he was happy. He wasn't, but when he thought of it enough, he knew his brain had that sufficient power to influence his body in thinking exactly that.

He had thought that perhaps someday, his brain would be powerful enough that even it could believe its own lie as the truth.

But he still dreamed, and he still woke up, to tears in his eyes, and he would curl in around himself and wish he was more powerful.

Maybe then, he wouldn't be crying, maybe then he wouldn't be destroying himself over wishes and dreams that would never come true, maybe then he would be happy.

(Maybe then, Tezuka wouldn't have left him, would have found it in his heart to _love_ him, in the first place.)

And sometimes, when Fuji can't sleep, he would roll on his side and think about where Tezuka was. He wouldn't look up to the sky, but he knew, somewhere in the world, Tezuka was under a different patch of the same sky. They would not see the same stars, and they probably never ever will.

And he would think about how a nameless woman would be standing beside Tezuka under that patch of the sky Fuji could never (didn't have the right to) see.

She'd be really pretty, of course, heartbreakingly beautiful, enough to match Tezuka's godlike features. She'd know all about tennis, because that was an essential part of Tezuka's life, and it will probably always will be, even after his arm would give up on him. She'd accompany him to his matches, and she'd be the very first person to congratulate him on his wins (she wouldn't have to think of what to do when Tezuka lost, because Tezuka would always win). And when Tezuka's arm finally had enough, she would be the one to comfort him, and stay with him, and hold him, and be with him as he suffered through the pain of giving up the one thing he had loved most.

And then slowly, but surely, she would start to fill the void it had left in Tezuka's heart.

Tezuka would take her out on dates, and buy her flowers, and take her home to meet his parents. They'd like her very much, because she was mild-mannered and respectable and every bit the wife they had imagined their son to have. They wouldn't speak of Fuji, because Fuji, they would realize, had just been a phase, and even though they _had been_ accepting of that phase, they never really wanted their son to ruin the rest of his life by being with... with _Fuji_.

And then, Tezuka would wake up one day and realize that she was the reason he still smiled, and that he couldn't last another day without her. Then, he would buy the most expensive ring he could find for her, and he would go down on one knee, tell her he loved her, and ask her to marry him.

And they would be brilliant together.

She would be gentle where Tezuka was fierce, passionate where Tezuka couldn't care less, and she'd be cheerfully outgoing, smiling where Tezuka scowled. People will whisper how perfect they were for each other, how she and Tezuka matched, like two perfect puzzle pieces, and how they were going to make the best sort of family in the best sort of society in the best part of town.

And now that he thought about it, she wouldn't be a nameless woman.

She'd be a Tezuka.

A part of him, a _very_ small part, but a part, nonetheless, had thought that he'd get a kick out of it, if Tezuka invited him to a wedding or a baby shower to stand in as the best man, or the godfather.

The bigger part of him had been too busy drowning in pain to think anything.

He was drowning now, in pain once again, but not with the despair that had once consumed his soul. Now it was the hope that killed him. He had never thought it possible before, but the hope was killing him in ways the despair never could.

It was for that very reason Fuji had pulled away, had run away from the kiss that had made him feel warm and treasured and loved once again.

He didn't want to have hope. Because he knew, for a very long time now, he knew...

He was never loved.

./.

Milly sighed, kicking her heels off angrily, because she was frustrated and it was the nearest thing she could vent her frustration on. She contemplated throwing her phone, but it had been Rivalz's gift and it was _really_ pretty and completely her style and it was Rivalz's gift and only heaven knew how happy he had been when she enthusiastically thanked him for it.

Her hand tightened around the phone.

After about two dozen missed calls, she'd stormed out of the venue and returned to the hotel in a last-ditch attempt of _let Syusuke be there, damn it_. It wasn't that she didn't believe he couldn't take care of himself.

It wasn't that she didn't trust him.

It was just that she didn't trust Tezuka-san and the rest of this whole damn country with Syusuke.

Who would, after all? Syusuke had been hurting from the very first moment they had gotten in here.

On hindsight, she was the one who had forced Japan on him, but she had thought she was getting him to find the closure he looked like he had never gotten.

Milly wasn't a fool, after all. There had to be a reason why Syusuke was never open about his past, why his eyes clouded over at the slightest bit of mention of _Asia_, why Yuuta was always so careful with him about _before_.

There was something there that haunted Syusuke, and it will continue to haunt him still, unless he got the something he looked like he was still lacking.

Milly hadn't wanted to get married until that happened. Milly hadn't wanted to get married, because Syusuke played a huge part in her happiness, the way he always will, and Milly wasn't going to be selfish and be happy while he spent the rest of his life with sad, miserable eyes.

She fingered her ring, remembering lunch time in the office when Syusuke approached her and asked devious, psuedo-romantic-slash-teasing questions.

One of them had been, _"Ne, Milly, what's your dream engagement proposal?"_

She'd teased him tremendously, but once he bore through the worst of it, and seemed as if he wanted her to take him seriously, she'd let a slow smile spread across her face, and said, winking, _"If _you_ proposed, we'll have no problem."_ And she'd waved him out of her office with a smile (and another conspiratorial wink of challenge). _"Just a ring from Tiffany's would do."_

And on the night of her birthday, he took out the promised Tiffany ring and winked (conspiratorially) back.

She didn't remember feeling any happier in all of her life.

She'd wanted Syusuke to be just as happy, too. But perhaps... perhaps she'd made a mistake she could never undo. Maybe it would have been better if he hadn't ever gone back to Japan. Maybe, if he didn't meet Tezuka-san once again, there would be one day when just Milly, or Milly and the others back in the States would be enough to finally coax him out of his shell and make him smile for real.

She looked at her phone, but before she could dial Syusuke's number once again, the door to her room burst open and slammed close, and Syusuke was there, dripping wet, eyes covered by his hair, much like he had been the night Milly had found him after he had been soaking himself in cold water in the bathroom.

He whispered her name, nothing more than a hoarse, _"Milly,"_ but she understood, and was rushing towards him, catching him in her arms as he fell, collapsing against her like he had used up all of his strength just to talk.

His arms were limp at his sides, but he shifted until his face was buried at her neck. He was cold again, and his entire body wracked with shivers as he shuddered against her in a way that felt like it wasn't from the cold.

She could feel the flutter of his long, lush lashes against her skin, and strangely, even though the rest of him was wet, his face was dry, as if he had exerted effort to make it that way.

She patted his back, making soft, soothing sounds that were loud against Syusuke's silence as he continued to silently tremble and quake against her in a way he never had. And yet, Syusuke's face had still stayed dry.

There were no tears.

There were no tears, but Milly knew Syusuke was crying.

She only pressed him against her tighter, the echo of all the times he had been crying, without tears coming back to her, making her ache in the way she always had as she watched him smile and be hurt, unable to do anything at all.

And suddenly, she was back in the student council room, watching Syusuke smile and wave off her worries as she practically screamed at him to stop being so stupid, he _had_ _been hurt_, did he realize how scared she had been and...

"_...And you could have died!" she scolded, smoothing another band-aid over a cut on his knee. She tapped it once, just so she could see him wince and let go of his smile that was really more fake than real._

_She hated it that he was so damn chivalrous. It gave her a warm feeling inside, but she had resolved to hate him more right now, because he was so _damn chivalrous_, that she couldn't find it in herself to be really angry with him because he had jumped in and saved her life at the cost of his own._

_And it _completely _didn't matter that the car wouldn't have hit him anyway, so his argument really didn't stand a point._

_So what if he was smart enough to calculate the velocity or whatever-whatever-blah-blah, and _so what _if he knew he wasn't going to get hurt, if she was the reason he stepped into the path of a _speeding truck_ that would have cost him his life if it made bodily contact, the fact that the truck wouldn't have hit him anyway made no difference._

_No difference _at all_. _

"_You're my friend, aren't you?" Syusuke finally said, bringing a hand down to pat against her cheek. "I don't react rationally when things threaten people who are important to me."_

_As he said it, his eyes peeled open, blue as the heavens, infinitely wise and gentle. They were always ever only gentle, just as they were always ever sad. The sadness was there now, mixed with the gentleness so tightly, Milly could never have told where one ended and the other began._

_And it scared her that seeing Syusuke like this was getting on to be a habit, it almost felt natural._

"_Yeah?" she bit out, yanking his folded-up pant leg down more angrily than she should have. "Well, what about you? Doing things like that, threatening _your_ life..."_

_Syusuke gave her a smile that made her feel like a child and she trailed off, the rest of the words she had formulated in her head forgotten, stuck in a throat that was suddenly dry. In that moment, he looked older, and just as tired and weary. The sadness in his eyes became more pronounced until it erased the memory of everything other than agony._

"_Ah," he said slowly, his lids falling back down into place, as he turned his head away. "But I'm not important."_

She'd called him stupid then, and spent the next hour explaining just how important he was. By the end of it, Syusuke was laughing and patting her hand, telling her thank you in a way that told Milly that the past hour had been a wasted effort, he still didn't believe her.

But, she had thought then, he believed in someone.

Someone who had told him that he was worthless.

Milly had sworn then that when she found that someone, she would not rest until she pulled his existence away from the face of the earth because no one, _no one_, insulted people Milly loved like that and got away with it.

She and Syusuke were alike in that respect, but Milly, unlike Syusuke, had never had to learn the art of subtlety.

She'd commit homicide if she could, and she would, if it wouldn't land her in jail. She was always thorough in her revenge plans, and she has yet to kill anyone, yes, but really, that made next to no difference.

If she couldn't kill them, then she'd just make them wish they were dead.

And now, as she held Syusuke while he sobbed without tears, she suddenly knew for sure who that someone was.

"You came from Tezuka-san's place, didn't you" she asked, flatly, knowing the response before Syusuke even started to react.

But there was no reaction, just another shudder against her shoulder and half-warm, half-cold breath against her skin. There was a minute pause, before Syusuke shifted once again and pulled away from her, his entire posture still limp and weary.

"Don't tell Yuuta," he said, slowly as if it had taken him very long to formulate that simple, three-word sentence.

"Fine," she lied, shrugging her shoulders, and reaching for him once again.

Like hell she wouldn't tell Yuuta. If her brother was falling into depression because of some jerk who thought he could mess around with said brother's life, she'd want to know. She'd want to know so she could hurry up, kick his ass and get even.

Milly was _very_ good at getting even. And so, she knew from personal experience, was Yuuta.

And so was Syusuke, actually, but since he was unfunctional right now, Tezuka-san would have to make do with just the two of them.

Between her and Yuuta, she was fairly sure they had enough resources combined to sufficiently ruin Tezuka-san's life.

He'd even actually made it fairly easy. After everything that happened, Milly knew just what to do.

All she had to do, after all, was take Syusuke away from him.

Her grip on Syusuke tightened possessively as she felt resolve settling down somewhere in the deep, dark part of her she liked to keep hidden away from everybody else. She buried her face into Syusuke's wet hair, cuddling him closer, because now she had something in her mind that she wanted.

Milly, even as a child had always, _always_, known what she wanted, when she wanted it and god bless anyone who got in her way. And right now, she wanted Syusuke, and she wanted him happy, and content and not stiffling his sobs, crying tearless in her arms, watching her with empty eyes every other hour of every other day.

Everything else, _Tezuka-san_ most especially, could just go to hell.

* * *

Clary: And in the end, the additional one week of searching for inspiration amounted to nothing. I hate this chapter, it is so horrible, Imma go drown myself because I am such a horrible author.

DIE, ME!

Whatever's happening here HAS to written, though, because it makes some things for the coming events um... possible, I guess. Ah. I can't explain it, but this is a necessary, AWFUL, I know, chappie... –IS SAD-

So far, uni is not fun at all. Lia's getting busy, but it's cool coz she's learning SUPER AWESOME physiology and whatnot stuff, and compared to her, I'm like WHAT KIND OF GARBAGE AM I LEARNING~~~~~~~~? When am I ever going to use "The orange will have been being eaten," in my life? WHEN? It doesn't even SOUND RIGHT! –moans-

Okay. So uni ranting aside, next update from me will be for Crimson Waves, if there are any of you who are reading that one, too :)

SO. Please do drop a review... Even just to tell me how much you guys hated this... TT . TT

They make inspiration come faster... :)


	10. Verse 09

Clary: ...Um. Long time no see? I'm really sorry you guys, I'm being constantly buried by my uni workload, and there's just no time to sit down and actually accomplish things I want to finish. Not to mention the fact that Lia's completely sucked into med hype, and she has like only heaven knows how many majors to work with. And without Lia, well... Let's just say she's the one who bugs me into writing when I get lazy and find reasons to justify my procrastination.

So... uh... Yeah... Updates might be really slow for a while. I'll do my best to finish this, promise.

Oh, thanks to all the lovely reviews, by the way! I'm sorry I can't reply to them, but Lia's not around, and it feels off to make review replies without her little snarky comments about my not being a nice enough author.

PS: Lia has not touched this, and I tried my best to fix it, but please forgive any grammar mistakes. Or, if you will, point them out so I can fix them?

Enjoy the chapter, you guys :)

* * *

_Happy birthday to me_, Tezuka raised his glass and downed the rest of the shot. Automatically, the man at the bar moved to refill his glass in almost no time at all, despite the fact that there were a million other people clamoring for attention. It was good service, but Tezuka couldn't muster enough feeling to be grateful.

He shouldn't have come here.

It was too bright, too wild, too _happy_. It had started well enough, formal speeches and toasts, but he should have expected Atobe to turn some straight-laced event into a full-force party, especially if he had every right to because it was his birthday. Tezuka gave a moment to glance at the gyrating bodies in the dance floor, illuminated by the pulsing lights, dancing to incoherent music, and wished he hadn't. He wished he hadn't looked, hadn't drunk, he wished he hadn't come at all.

He knew from the start that this was going to be a bad idea.

"Tezuka!"

Tezuka came out of his thoughts only to be aware of worried jade eyes staring at him quizzically. "Oishi," he acknowledged, recalling how his former vice captain had showed up in the party with the hyper, bouncing Kikumaru Eiji in tow. And how he watched Kikumaru's heartfelt reunion with his long-lost best friend from afar.

In fact, Fuji had been going out of the way to avoid him all night, staying as far away from him as humanly possible. And everywhere he went, Milly Ashford clung to him like second skin, looking utterly comfortable and terribly victorious, hanging off of Fuji's arm.

Tezuka picked up his glass and contemplated whether or not he should just make things easier for himself and drink some more.

"You look good tonight," Oishi began conversationally, picking at the straw of his ordered soda water.

Tezuka turned his head fully so he could really look at his friend. He wondered if Oishi was joking, or being sarcastic.

"No, I mean it, Tezuka!" There was a slight quirk to Oishi's smile now, as if he was just seconds away from laughter. Kikumaru must be rubbing off of Oishi, because the Oishi he knew would never have been as comical as this one.

He downed his drink.

"Hn."

"So, how does it feel like to be one year away from thirty?"

It wasn't any different, except for the fact that Fuji was here now, in the same room, so close and yet so very very far away. He let his gaze wander until they found who he was searching for – Fuji, dancing with Milly Ashford. The girl had her arms around her fiance, and they moved with a rhythm that seemed almost natural, like second nature, to them.

And why wouldn't they?

They were getting married soon, after all.

A little voice inside his head supplied that yes, _they look good together_.

Tezuka hated that voice.

He took another shot, except this time, the alcohol was bitter on his lips. "You would know," he snapped, the glass banging into the table loudly.

"Tezuka?" Oishi was blinking incredulously at his uncharacteristic display of emotion.

Tezuka sighed, and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. He counted slowly to ten and tried to erase the image firmly from his mind.

"Sorry," he said finally.

When he opened his eyes, Oishi was staring at him with understanding, compassionate eyes. They were emotions that he did not want to see, but emotions that he knew by heart. He'd been seeing them far too much lately these days, and far too often for his liking.

Unwillingly, his eyes darted back to Fuji and his fiancee. Without even checking, or pausing to look, he knew Oishi was following his gaze. For a moment, they were both silent, watching Milly and Fuji be happy and look like the perfect couple together.

"It's not good, you know."

Tezuka switched his gaze to Oishi questioningly. His best friend had been watching _him_, Tezuka realized, with a disapproving frown that did not look right on his face.

"What you're doing," Oishi clarified. "It's not good."

Tezuka sighed and turned back to his drink. He should not have expected anything less, Oishi had always been perceptive. In fact, Oishi had been one of the few people who didn't to be told that Tezuka and Fuji were in love.

"He's getting married." It seemed like his prime, favorite excuse these days. "There is nothing left _to do_."

"_Tezuka_, you know, when I said you looked good, I meant, you're back." For the first time in his life, Oishi sounded like he was genuinely exasperated. And perhaps he had the right to be, except he shouldn't be taking it out on Tezuka, shouldn't he? Tezuka was _fine_ exactly where he was. And he was going to _stay _where he was, because everything that could have been fixed was gone.

And there was nothing he could do to get it back.

"Ever since Fuji... went away, you haven't quite looked like yourself anymore. And now that he's back, it's like the Tezuka that I know is back along with him. Tezuka, _don't you see_?"

Tezuka raised his eyes to meet Oishi's. There was that compassionate gaze again, and it killed Tezuka, because it was one emotion away from pity. He didn't want pity. He didn't quite deserve it, either.

"You love him," Oishi gently declared. "You can't deny it."

Tezuka's grip tightened on his glass. "It doesn't matter," he said crossly. "It _doesn't matter_. What good will that do me if it wasn't even enough to-" Tezuka cut himself off, and poured the bitter drink down his throat. "Things aren't that simple."

"Are they?"

"It's not what he needed, Oishi." It wasn't enough. His love couldn't save Fuji, because it had been lacking. And because his love wasn't even enough to do just that, Tezuka had to throw that worthless love away.

"Tezuka." Gently, Oishi took the empty glass away from his hands. "You're not the one who gets to decide that." Oishi paused. "And Fuji's made his decision a long time ago."

"He could have changed his mind."

"Do you really believe that?" Oishi's eyes were fierce, determined. "I've only just seen him again, and for only a few minutes. But it seemed pretty clear to me."

Tezuka raised an eyebrow. "It should. Milly Ashford wears his ring on her finger."

"Maybe, if you stop pretending to be blind, Tezuka," Oishi shook his head, and sighed deeply. "You could fix things. Make him happy."

"I-"

"Hello boys," Milly Ashford cut in, squeezing herself so she was in between the both of them.

"Oishi-san," she acknowledged. "Would you excuse me and Tezuka-san for a bit of a moment?"

But Oishi wasn't looking at her. He was staring hard at Tezuka, before his gaze transferred to the dance floor, then back to Tezuka, and finally, to Milly. He gave a polite smile.

"Of course," he said accomodatingly. "I'll see you around, then, Tezuka." His voice was pleasant, almost careless, but his eyes were serious. Tezuka watched him leave, his words weighing Tezuka down like big, heavy rocks.

When he turned back to Milly Ashford, she had comandeered Oishi's previous seat, and was amusedly swirling the blue liquid in her cocktail glass around.

She leaned against the counter provocatively, and Tezuka had to admit to himself that she was quite the attractive woman. She was wearing a strapless white number, that hugged her body tightly, doing what it should to show off what needed to be showed off. It ended somewhere in the middle of her white thighs, and her feet were clad in heels so thin and so high, they looked dangerous. Her hair was in an artfully-messy bun, and a few curling blond strands framed her perfectly made-up face.

"Tezuka-san," she said, too sweet to be innocent. "Let's, you and I, have a little talk, hm?"

Her eyes were blue, but not in the way that Fuji's were. And they were dark with an emotion that Tezuka could swear was hate.

The feeling, Tezuka thought, was mutual. "What do you want?"

"Oh, nothing much," she replied, fingering her engagement ring. She was trying for thoughtless, Tezuka knew, but it wasn't working. He could see through her little deceptions; he knew that movement was deliberate.

_See this ring?_ she was saying. _Syusuke gave it to me. He gave it to me on the day he asked me to marry him_.

She was telling Tezuka that, _Syusuke is mine_.

"What do you _want_?" Tezuka repeated, more fiercely this time.

She turned to face him fully, the sliver of hatred taking over her features, until even her face was contorted in hate. "I thought you would already know," she spat. "Or are you really so blind?"

Tezuka kept quiet, though he knew exactly what she wanted. He would have readily given it, too, or at least, he thought he would have been strong enough to, but Oishi's words swam to the top of his head, and they stopped his own words from coming out.

_("Fuji's made his decision a long time ago_._")_

A long time ago. When Milly wasn't in the picture. When Fuji loved him, before he drove Fuji away.

And that kiss in his office that still seemed so fresh in his mind...

Perhaps... Tezuka didn't want to think like this, but what if Oishi was right?

Milly's hand shot out to grip his arm, her painted nails digging into his skin. "You'll stay away from my fiance, Tezuka-san." Her hand tightened, but Tezuka was too angry to feel pained. "And you'll keep your hands to yourself."

"Why do you expect me to do something you can't even do yourself?" Tezuka asked, eyeing her hand on his arm pointedly.

"Do you really want me to spell it out for you?" Milly ripped her hand away, but she closed in on him, invading his personal space. "Direct your sexual urges somewhere else. Syusuke is _mine_."

"He wasn't always." Tezuka's eyes widened at his quiet reply. He didn't know where that came from. He hadn't even been thinking about...

But Milly had already heard. She pulled away, her mouth spreading into a slow, slow smile. "And how much good did that do him, I wonder?"

"Deny it, if you want," Tezuka told her. "But Syusuke and I were in love."

"Once," Milly added quickly. "Not anymore. Whatever feelings you still have for him, don't project it onto _him_. Syusuke has nothing left for you."

"If it is as you say," Tezuka felt dreamlike, saying it like this, but all he could think of was those times when Milly had been overly-close, and how he'd wanted to rip her off of Fuji's grasp. "Then, why are you threatened by me?"

Milly gaped at him. For a very long moment, she just stared at him, her mouth half-open, her eyes wide. Tezuka, in those moments, felt quite vindicated. That was until she threw her head back and laughed.

It wasn't a very beautiful laugh.

"Oh, this is precious. So precious," she breathed between her laughs. "You selfish, selfish man, you think this is about you?"

"I was merely stating the truth." Tezuka narrowed his eyes, not sure of where she wanted to take this conversation anymore.

"You know," she said, finally catching her breath. "All you're doing right now is proving to me that Syusuke was right. He was right to have left you." Milly gave him a grin, showing off a perfectly sharp row of teeth. "He was right to have chosen _me_."

Tezuka felt the words like a strong blow to his stomach. For a moment he couldn't breathe, and he clung to his stoic mask like a lifeline. Here were his darkest thoughts, his greatest fears come to life. Perhaps there was something that shattered.

Perhaps that was his world.

"Tezuka-san," Milly was saying, her blue eyes darkening. "I never thought you would be this selfish." She turned back to the bar, and asked for another of her blue cocktail. "Or blind."

She pinned him down with a sharp gaze, judging him, condemning him, giving him nothing less than what he really deserved. "Can't you see how unhappy you make him? Can't you see how much you _hurt_ him?" She gaze down at her glass, a smirk tugging her lips up. "And can't you see how happy _I_ make him?

"I care for him, Tezuka-san. I love him. That is why I do not wish for you to hurt him anymore. I don't want to see him cry. Doesn't that make sense to you?"

Tezuka remained quiet, because it made sense, it made so much sense. It was what he wanted a long time ago, it was still what he wanted now.

Because he loved Fuji then, and he loved him still.

Milly met his eyes, and held them, all trace of humor gone from her face. "Tezuka-san, I know I don't really know that much, Syusuke rarely talks about his past. I may not understand your relationship, or what you both had gone through, but I know one thing.

"After you've thrown him away, Tezuka-san, don't mess with his feelings anymore. You no longer have the right to."

Milly said nothing more, she didn't have to. She stood from her place, her hand still holding the glass, moving to walk away. Tezuka let her, because she was right, after all. Despite his good intentions, Tezuka had still hurt Fuji.

Tezuka was still hurting him now. It seemed as if that was all he was capable of is hurting Fuji.

"Oh, and Tezuka-san," she called, and Tezuka slowly, mechanically, turned around to face her.

Milly Ashford gave him what seemed to Tezuka a mockery of a friendly smile. The multi-colored lights dyed her blond hair in changing colors, wrapping around her perfectly sculpted face like a halo. She looked beatific. Even at faux-friendship, she was quite the angel. Tezuka could see why Fuji could love her.

Tezuka hated it.

She raised her blue cocktail, tilting her head to the side coyly. "Happy birthday."

* * *

**THE MELODY OF TWO HEARTS**

**Verse 09**

_**How can I?**_

* * *

Kikumaru Eiji had a secret.

Now, it wasn't a particularly good secret, it was actually only just something he had made up for himself, but he knew things, and because he knew things, he had secrets. Sometimes, he was wrong, but most times, he was right.

He might not look it, but he was actually a very observant, very perceptive guy.

Moreso to the people he knew better than he knew his own heart.

Fuji Syusuke, once upon a time, was one of those people.

They've been best friends. They've joined the same club, later on joined the same regular lineup, and they even had the same class together. And somewhere, right along where they were journeying towards the Nationals trophy together, they both fell in love. The only difference being that Eiji had his happy ending, while Fuji... well, Fuji just upped and left and fell off the face of the earth.

Eiji wasn't told anything, it was lucky if you actually got Tezuka to react to anything in those days, but he could have pretty much guessed from there anyway. Eiji wasn't stupid, after all.

He didn't know why, he didn't know how, frankly Eiji thought they should have married a long time ago, but Tezuka and Fuji had, by some wrong twist in the wheels of the universe, broken up.

Yeah, Eiji was surprised about why the end of the world didn't happen then, too.

But that wasn't the point. The point was that Tezuka and Fuji were _soulmates_. Eiji didn't have to be a psychic to know that his best friend and his tennis captain were connected with the red string of fate.

So what was Fujiko doing _letting a girl hang off of his arm?_ (And why was the universe not protesting against it?)

Was it a try-to-get-Tezuka-back-by-making-him-jealous stunt? Because it seriously needed work, because while Tezuka was very obviously jealous, Tezuka was very obviously not doing anything about it either. And what's it matter, if Tezuka doesn't do anything about it?

Why wasn't he doing anything about it in the first place?

Argh. Eiji flopped his head down into the small table, laying his face against the cold glass. He hated thinking too much. It hurt his head. Fujiko always makes things so complicated. Did he get some sort of sadistic relief out of making Eiji think like this? Eiji wouldn't put it past him.

"Where's Milly?"

Speak of the devil.

Eiji turned his head to the side so he could watch his best friend settle into the seat next to him, bringing those little shot glasses some of the waiters are bringing around. It must have taken quite the stroke of genius, snatching those little things before they ran out. Then again, Fuji was a genius, so Eiji shouldn't really be surprised.

"How should I know?" Eiji answered, turning his head away. "She's _your_ friend, not mine."

"Are you still mad at me?" Eiji could just _see_ the amusement in Fujiko's eyes. It really wasn't funny. Even if Eiji forgave him for it, that doesn't mean it didn't hurt. He didn't even say a proper goodbye.

Nor did he try to stay in contact. Eiji had wasted _so much money_ trying to contact him. What, Fuji was too busy to give him a phone call? It wasn't as if Eiji was asking for too much, was he? It's just a phone call. Fujiko had a phone, and Eiji's number, and all he had to do was press the call button.

Eiji wasn't asking him to win a six-set tennis match, moving a finger didn't even take that much effort. You can't even burn calories with that.

"You know, Fujiko, you're _so_ unfair. You're _so unfair_. You're so mean and you're _so unfair_," Eiji informed him. "I should hate you. I should be really, really mad at you, you unfair meanie."

There was a brief pause, before Fuji replied quietly, "Go ahead. I suppose I deserve that, don't I?"

Oh, hell, why did he have to be so... "See!" Eiji whirled around and pointed at Fuji accusingly. "See! Why do you _do _that?"

"Do what?" Fuji inquired, the perfect picture of innocence. Like Eiji didn't know any better.

"_That!_" And sensing that his outburst was getting him nowhere, Eiji threw up his hands in surrender. "Never mind. I can never win against you."

"Of course you could Eiji," Fuji told him consolingly.

Eiji rolled his eyes and gave a snort. As if.

Fuji only smiled, sliding the other shot glass towards him. "So, where's Milly?"

"I'm not her keeper, okay? Geez." Eiji tilted back his head and gulped down his drink in one go. He wondered if he should ask Fuji _the question_. He looked at his best friend's open face and decided that maybe he should get drunk first.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Milly Ashford sidling in beside Tezuka and decided he did not have enough time for that.

"Fujiko," Eiji looked down at his glass and wished there was more time to get drunk. "She's wearing an engagement ring..." He trailed off, unsure of how to continue.

How do you ask your best friend if he was that woman's... _mistress_ (was there even a male equivalent for this)?

Fuji's smile didn't faze. "Yes, I know."

"Are you..." The words were on the tip of his tongue. Eiji decided to screw it, and he stole Fuji's still-full glass from his grasp and poured it down his mouth, too.

"Getting married?" Fuji filled the sentence in for him.

The alcohol spewed out undelicately from Eiji's mouth right into Fuji's shirt.

Fuji chuckled, before patting Eiji in the back as he coughed. And he sat by calmly as Eiji frantically tried to fix the now-wet shirt, assuring Eiji that it was just a piece of clothing.

But really, it was soaked in _alcohol_.

"_Why_ do you always think it's funny to joke around me like this?" Eiji demanded, dabbing the shirt with more paper towels. "Getting married, my ass."

"But Eiji-"

Eiji really didn't want to listen to Fujiko's stupid protests. "Look Fujiko, I know you're friends with her and all, because that's exactly all you look like. _Friends_. She looks like she's in love, but not with you." Eiji raised his eyes to that they were looking straight at Fuji's open ones. "And I could say the exact same thing about you."

Fuji gave him a weak smile in response, and Eiji knew he somehow hit a mark. He didn't know which mark he hit, but he hit something nonetheless. It wasn't like he couldn't guess, anyway. "Eiji, Milly and I are-"

"What about Tezuka?"

"What about him?" Fuji's voice was sharp, but Eiji could not back down now.

He pulled back so he was looking at his best friend face-to-face. "What's _not_ about him, Fujiko?" Eiji asked. "The Fujiko I know is madly in love with him."

Fuji averted his gaze, dropping his eyes until they were not visible underneath his bangs. His hands on his lap were trembling. "It's been a long time," Fuji said, quietly. "Perhaps I'm no longer the Fuji that you know."

"Fujiko, trust me, with you being like this, _you're_ the Fujiko I know." Eiji clutched his best friend's shoulders tightly, until vulnerable blue eyes peeked out from underneath the shield of honey hair. "Now, more than ever."

./.

In the mirror, there was the haunted face. It didn't scare him anymore, not really. He'd gotten used to seeing his face like this over the years. He couldn't handle anymore of Eiji's eyes or Eiji's words, because Eiji was telling him the truth he'd been denying himself all along.

So he fled to the only solace he could find – the bathroom. It wasn't as if he had no excuse for it, anyway, his shirt _was _wet. He didn't care about it enough to try to wash it off here, but it was an excuse and he grabbed at it desperately.

_("The Fujiko I know is madly in love with Tezuka.")_

Fuji knew that. He'd always been in love with Tezuka. He still was. He always will.

It was Tezuka who didn't feel the same way.

It was Tezuka who lied, who broke everything off, who told Fuji to go because he didn't need Fuji anymore. It was Tezuka who hadn't felt that love, Tezuka who was only playing with Fuji's feelings, Tezuka who was using what he needed to use to get what he wanted.

It showed, didn't it, how much of a pathetic masochist he was that Tezuka did all that, and all Fuji could do was love him still.

As if brought forth by his thoughts, the bathroom door swung open, and through his view in the mirror, Fuji came face-to-face with Tezuka.

For a moment, they stared at each other, and a million and one thoughts started running through Fuji's head. Then, Tezuka took one small step, and that was all Fuji needed to snap back to reality.

_I should leave_, he told himself. It was the smart thing to do, because that way, no one would have to hurt anymore. That way, he wouldn't think of making another stupid mistake that would just kill him even more inside and ignite the flames of hope he tried to pretend didn't exist anymore.

That way, he could move on.

_I should leave_.

But his body wasn't moving.

_("The Fujiko I know is madly in love with Tezuka.")_

Fuji could feel Tezuka's gaze on him, like a smooth caress of gentle fingers, and he shivered at the memories that gaze brought up. He clutched at the sleeves of his button-up shirt and tried to keep his attention on dressing. He felt Tezuka's eyes follow his every movement, and, as always, his entire body yearned to throw himself towards him, begging to be taken back and loved again.

(_"Now, more than ever.")_

But he can't be that Fuji anymore. He _can't_. It hurt to be that Fuji too much.

He took a deep breath to control himself, and turned around, only to realize that Tezuka had quietly taken the few steps that would get their bodies together. He trembled at the contact, because this is what he had been missing all throughout these years. This was what he saw in the half-formed dreams that he pretended not to have, that left him gasping and weeping to the sheets when he woke up.

He raised his head, though perhaps he should not have, and was met once again by Tezuka's intense hazel stare. It left a strange feeling in his gut, a strange kind of fluttering and tingling, and once again he felt that pull, that indescribable need to get closer and closer to Tezuka until nothing separated them. He shouldn't have, but he was raising his head, drawing up his entire body, and Tezuka was lowering his, as if he felt that pull, too, as if he felt that desperate need to get nearer.

They were getting closer, so close now, that he could feel Tezuka's breath of air caress his lips, and it sent his blood tingling. His eyes fluttered close and, even though he had not conjured it, a memory came of that wretched afternoon, and he could see Tezuka's almost-cruel half-smile again, and Tezuka's words were filling his head, incessantly loud and hurtful.

_("You were only convenient.")_

He gasped and turned his head, so that Tezuka's lips on brushed his cheek. It tingled there, where he had touched it, but Fuji stumbled back, feeling suffocated, and a sudden need to get farther and farther away filled his entire being.

He met Tezuka's eyes, but he refused to acknowledge what he could see lurking in their depths, because that was just the result of a combination of wishful thinking and imagination.

Tezuka has made very, very clear, after all, what Fuji was to him that afternoon many years ago.

_Very_, very clear.

The tears came, unbidden to his eyes, but he would not shed them. Not here, not in front of Tezuka.

He saw Tezuka about to speak, but he turned his head away, and forced himself to say something, because if he were to hear Tezuka's voice, that voice that loved him and hurt him at the same time, he might not be able to retain what measure of control he still had.

"Tezuka," he said, minutely realizing how his hands were trembling. "That's okay. I'm convenient again today, ne?" And he forced himself to accompany his words with a closed-eyed smile. It was easy, even though it hurt. He had more than enough practice.

"Syusuke, I..." And Tezuka's words were filled with so much remorse, Fuji couldn't help that little spark of hope that bloomed in his heart. His mind screamed at him to think rationally, but his heart was beating so loud, it was drowning out the screaming.

He _had_ to know.

"Tezuka..." He stopped before his voice could crack, and drew a deep breath before he spoke again. "Did you mean what you said, that afternoon when you... when we... when it ended?"

All these years, Fuji had thought he had meant every word. And that cruel half-smile that seemed to be mocking him had figured prominently in his many nightmares, the words that cut him like glass reverberating over and over and over. But now, with Tezuka acting like this, and the kiss that they had shared and the almost-kiss just now... Fuji wasn't sure anymore.

What if he'd been wrong? What if it had all been a misunderstanding? What if the past years of pain could all go away because they weren't supposed to exist in the first place?

What if he could be happy?

"Can you tell me they weren't true?"

At Fuji's words, Tezuka's face hardened and he looked away. Any spark of hope Fuji might have still harbored through the years, the spark of hope he took great care to enkindle, died out and a ragged breath made its way past his lips. His heart clenched painfully, and the tears burned behind his eyes.

How desperate he must have sounded, asking Tezuka something like that. Of course he had meant it. Of _course_ he had. More than a decade now and Fuji still couldn't get himself to believe it.

He realized his hands were clenched into trembling fists, so tight he must have been drawing blood. His entire body was trembling, and he realized he had to get away before Tezuka would see him cry. He'd probably just end up making Tezuka more disgusted of him.

"I see," he managed in an even voice. And he forced himself to walk. He should have done it before he embarrassed himself in the first place. "Excuse me, then."

He walked swiftly, even though he was shaking, until he was stopped by Tezuka's grip on his wrist, strong and unyielding. He drew in another ragged breath, the tears dangerously close to falling. He wouldn't turn around. He _wouldn't_. Because if he did, and he was met with Tezuka's eyes, eyes that still haunted his every dream, eyes that he still loved, he knew he would start to cry.

And he _couldn't_.

He would not cry in front of Tezuka. He had humiliated himself enough.

"Please let go, Tezuka." His voice sounded pitifully weak to his ears, but he didn't care.

"Syusuke, I..."

"_Please_," he said desperately.

Any more words and he was sure he couldn't bear it. Please, please, _please_ just let go. Leave him alone. He meant next to nothing to Tezuka anyway, why did Tezuka care how he felt?

The grip loosened slowly, almost as if Tezuka was unwilling, but why would he be? Tezuka did not love Fuji now any more than he did that afternoon. He was just convenient, that was all. It was high time Fuji let go of his delusions.

Fuji snatched his hand back and only made it as far as the other side of the door before his tears started to fall.

* * *

Clary: Review, please, with a pretty cherry on top :)


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